


Look Only At Me

by fat_fish_in_space



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: ALSO artificial children ok no mprg so chill!, Age Difference, Choking, Creepy Palpatine, First Love, How Do I Tag, Implied/Reference Non-con actions (just touching really), Jealousy, Just Suggest What Should Be Tagged, Kinda Foot Fetish Maybe? Who Knows, Kissing, Krennic The Human Disaster, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Old Men Being Emotional Dicks, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Burn, The Abuse Of Force Powers, also Thrawn totally is plotting like always, help me tag, please, poor Motti worries too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fat_fish_in_space/pseuds/fat_fish_in_space
Summary: “Oh Anakin, you are still a terrible liar.” Spoke Tarkin weakly. ***Orson felt his mouth go slack. This was not going the way he expected it to.





	1. The Flaw In Your Armor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciaWilt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaWilt/gifts).



> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language. 
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> ***
> 
> Yes, I'm back to fic writing. I hope you guys enjoy this new trash coming from me. It was actually supposed to go a totally different way, but as always with my fics, they have a life of their own. 
> 
> I would also like to dedicate this fic to LuciaWilt who keeps encouraging me to keep writing and put up for a few months with me sending her ficlets with those three old men, because I was too shy to post them. Thank you dear for always believing in me, even when I don't believe in myself ♥

It started like always between them. Krennic was trying to push something through that he deemed important for the Death Star project, but Tarkin blocked him at every turn. It caused frustration on one side of the conflict and cruel amusement on the other. While on some level Orson Krennic respected Tarkin for his accomplishments, and even admired the way the man held himself (even if he wouldn’t admit it), he still brimmed with rage at the almost petty behavior from the older man. Because Wilhuff Tarkin did not hide the fact how distasteful he found the Director, how low his opinion of the other truly was. Thank the stars Tarkin at least had the mind to remember that he did sometimes need Krennic to achieve his own goals or that some of the things he proposed could do good for the project. He might find endless amusement in making Orson’s life miserable, but he would never sabotage the Death Star project for something so childish as the pissing contest they seemed to be having.

Krennic would love to retaliate, but he simply had no way to do so. His old techniques of getting to the top would get him nowhere and he was well aware of that. There was nothing he could hold against Tarkin, no blackmail material. He couldn’t use sex on the man either. He did not believe the cold, controlled block of ice that was Tarkin would ever allow anyone close enough to him to see even a glimpse of the skin he hid under the uniform he designed himself. It was clear that the blasted thing was supposed to be functional and nothing else; no status of power, no flair, nothing left to the imagination. Rigid and lacking a personality of its own, just like its creator. It was also one of the reasons why Tarkin disliked Krennic, after the newly appointed Director decided that he would be donning his white uniform with the cape. It gave him a feeling of power, of superiority that Tarkin’s uniform would not. If it also added to the dramatic flair that he was well known for, well, who was he to complain. He was not like all those Imperials who came from high places, with their refined tastes and posh accents, getting everything handed to them on a silver platter. No, Krennic was a man who fought his way to the top and he fought dirty. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get his way. Of course that sometimes meant he had to suffer being humiliated, but feelings pass, while achievements remain. Especially in a place like the Empire. Which also meant that if he murdered someone to get to his goal that person would soon be forgotten, being weak enough to get killed. And he used this option so many times already with no consequences coming his way yet. Most recently, he had dealt with the previous Director, replacing him with easy. No one would miss the sorry excuse of a man, considering he was putting the project way behind the schedule with his childish political plays. Of course his demise caused some stir among the high ranked Imperials, but with one word from the Emperor himself they were forced to let the whole issue slide. Because in the end, for all their high and mighty behavior, the people in the Empire were still nothing but animals, fighting for power and territory. And like with animals there were ways to tame them all.

Except Tarkin it seemed.

Krennic could not predict nor understand the Grand Moff. It also made him angry that he could not simply kill him. Tarkin, as much as he would love to deny it, was too important. The Emperor himself would get involved if the man disappeared for no reason, as well as that blasted Sith pet of his. They both seemed rather protective of Tarkin. He remembered the incident when one of the Officers was executed on the spot by Vader for disrespecting the Grand Moff. Palpatine simply laughed at the whole thing in chilling amusement. What also made killing Tarkin hard was that he was too good at his job. If Krennic wanted the Death Star project to reach completion and impress the Emperor, he needed Tarkin’s help, whether he liked it or not. But as always, he was ready to grovel and beg if it would get him what he wanted. Except with the Grand Moff it was always a disaster in the making. He often would get humiliated and not even receive that which he fought for. It was a first for him and he hated it. Hated how much power Tarkin had over him. He wanted the man to feel what he was feeling every time the Grand Moff made a fool of Orson. He wanted to dominate him, come up on the top for once, drink up in the defeated expression on the older man’s face; beat him at his own game.

Which was exactly what he was trying to do again.

With no success.

Again.

“Grand Moff, I assure you that with this rise of working hours in sector Z-24P we will be able to speed up the construct-” He tried for the third time, but Tarkin interrupted him.

“Krennic, I heard what you said the first two times. And I will repeat what I said before: I will not sign those documents. If we rise the working hours even more we will soon have workers dropping dead like flies from exhaustion. It will have the opposite effect of what you are proposing and we will be behind schedule. And considering the mess the death of the previous Director caused, we do not have the time for that.” He snapped coldly with an irritated sigh.

Krennic felt a snarl forming on his face. He wanted nothing more than to throttle Tarkin, choke him until his face turned different colors. He could just imagine his gloved hands on that slender neck, so frail looking, as he tightens his fingers slowly, watching the life slip from the Grand Moff’s eyes along with his breath. He knew Tarkin wouldn’t go down without a fight. He would claw and struggle, like a fish out of water, a wounded animal fighting against the hunters in its last moments, clinging to the remaining pieces of its life. And Orson would laugh, an ugly, mad sound, because it would feel so good to final get rid of the problem that was Wilhuff Tarkin.

“But you did not think about the consequences of your foolish idea, did you Krennic? Of course, I should have expected that. After all, your… kind does not seem to do much thinking. It’s more brawl over brain, isn’t that right?” Continued Tarkin with a nasty smirk gracing his face.

Krennic should be used to this. He shouldn’t react to the mocking of his origins, of his much lower social status compared to other high ranked Imperials. And usually he didn’t. But there was something that reared its ugly head in him every time Tarkin did it. It was almost as if this ones man’s opinion, out of all the people that stood in his way, seemed to mean to him more than he would like to admit. He hated that he couldn’t control this feeling. Oh, he did try, but with no success. Because every time he saw the sharp glint in Tarkin’s icy blue eyes, his lip curled slightly in amusement, that little disgusted sound he made after Krennic said something, how he always straightened his back and puffed his chest in sick pleasure at having put Krennic in his place; he couldn’t stop. His own eyes would glint with danger then, his lip pulled into an ugly snarl. He wanted to shout, to rip, to hurt, to kill. He wanted to destroy everything that made Wilhuff Tarkin and see the man crawl before him, begging for forgiveness.

Krennic didn’t say anything to the taunting words. He turned around with tense shoulders, his cape making his exit more dramatic than he would like for once. He felt like a scolded child, a little boy that is stomping his foot at his parent and pouting at not getting his way. He knew he also looked like that, because he heard an amused, cruel little chuckle coming from Tarkin. He was glad his back was to the Grand Moff. His cheeks were scarlet red, the humiliation at once again being denied made his skin hot. He felt embarrassed and he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, because only Tarkin made him like this; was able to reduce him to this state of complete hopelessness. Krennic did not know what to do anymore. It was as if he met an impenetrable wall for the first time in his life, in his career. Whatever he did, it did not seem to work. It did on others. But never on Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin.

He breathed a long, suffering sigh when he finally reached his quarters. He needed a new strategy or he would never move from this spot Tarkin put him in without any effort.

“He must have a weakness, some point in his character I can exploit.” He said to himself, opening his wine cabinet.

Nothing like a bottle of good alcohol to help him relax and plan.

 

*** 

 

The answer came in the most unexpected of ways. For a few days after his disaster of a talk with Tarkin, Krennic simply focused on his duties. He tried not to think too much about the other man, tried to avoid the Grand Moff if he could. He needed to clear his mind before he could think of a way to outdo the other man and beat him at his own game of power.

Avoiding the Grand Moff, however, was much harder than one might think. Especially when you had to work with him closely and run every important decision by him. It was frustrating, having to act like the conversation few days ago did not happen, as if the sting of Tarkin’s words still wasn’t fresh in his mind. He gritted his teeth and pulled up a cold front, making sure no one could see the tension in his body as he discussed another change of tactic with the older man. Tarkin did not seem to have the same problem. He was collected and calm, treating it as another day of work, only caring about the Death Star project.

They were actually watching over one of the production lines of the equipment for the battle station and discussing the potential change of material to a heavier, but a stronger, more durable kind, when heavy footsteps sounded behind them. They were followed by the recognizable sound of labored breathing and a feeling of an ominous presence entering the area. Krennic almost felt like it was suddenly harder to breath, some invisibly pressure pressing on his body, telling him to bend it and his will to the presence. He glanced at Tarkin, but the other man did not seem to be reacting in any way to the new occupant of the area. In fact, he was almost making a show of ignoring the presence that stood a few feet behind him, looming over both the Director and the Grand Moff. Tarkin kept looking at the information on his holopad about the differences between the materials, humming to himself in thought. Krennic envied him for this. That he could easily breath in the oppressive power, that he felt so confident that he didn’t even acknowledge that Lord Darth Vader himself just walked into the room.

“What can I do for you Lord Vader?” Asked Tarkin, almost jovially, without looking up from the holopad.

Krennic watched in tense silence the obvious power play he was witnessing here. He had to admit, he was in awe. Tarkin did not grovel in fear or respect in front of the Sith Lord like almost everyone did. In fact, he was acting as if the other was the one who should fight for his attention. It was… interesting and in a way disturbing to watch. Especially with how small and frail Tarkin appeared next to Vader. He could crush him so easily, kill him with the Force like Krennic has seen him doing so many times with other Officers. Cut him down with that eye blinding, crimson lightsaber, only leaving behind death and burning flesh. Hell, Vader could just snap Tarkin in half with his bare hands. If he had normal hands. Stars only knew what hid beneath that black armor of his. Which is why it was so morbidly fascinating, watching this powerful man not lashing out against Tarkin for his obvious cheek, since Vader was clearly higher on the Empire’s food chain.

“Grand Moff, I wish to speak with you privately.” Rasped out Vader, his voice tense.

Krennic watched in anticipation as Tarkin finally took his eyes off the holopad. He put it slowly on the table before him with a soft thud sounding out. But he did not turn around yet. The Grand Moff simply turned his head to the side a little, almost coyly, glancing down at the assembly line, but clearly indicating that Vader had his attention now. He probably recognized the tenseness in the other’s voice.

“Cannot it wait, Lord Vader? We are in the middle of an important discussion here.” Answered Tarkin, his own voice betraying some annoyance.

Krennic raised his eyebrow at that tone, curious. But he was also surprised. He did not think Tarkin considered the things they talked about important. He always believed that the man saw what Orson did more as an annoyance, something that could be done without Krennic’s involvement. Yet, right now in the presence of Lord Vader himself he just proved that it wasn’t the case. Unless he was simply being cross with Vader over something and was using this situation for personal means. The other option seemed more realistic. Still, for some reason Krennic felt some strange… gladness spread through him at the Grand Moff’s words; that he wasn’t as unimportant in his eyes as he believed.

 _Disgusting_. He thought to himself. He was acting like a kriffing dog, wagging his tail when his master threw some scraps at him from a full table. He could not believe his own reactions to Tarkin. It was truly becoming a problem.

“Yes Tarkin, it cannot wait.” Spat out Vader, dropping the other’s title, a dangerous undertone to his voice.

Krennic held his breath, feeling how tense the atmosphere became after those words. He observed Vader who was looming over Tarkin, having moved closer to the other man. Tarkin was fully in Vader’s shadow now, the black cape flapping around his form, the loud breath of the Sith Lord ruffling the silver hair slightly. His eyes moved slowly to the Grand Moff. He was tense and rigid himself, his hands trembling slightly in obvious rage. He was frowning, his eyes glinting sharply. Tarkin’s mouth was twisted, looking as if he ate something really sour. Krennic looked on in shock at the behavior. He has never seen Tarkin so out of control before and it was fascinating. This… this was but a lick of how he wanted to see the other man, of the reaction he wanted to provoke in him. Tarkin was furious at Vader, be it for the obvious disrespect or something else, but still the result was the same. Orson was just waiting for him to verbally explode. He bit his lip in anticipation and felt something coil in his stomach pleasantly at the thought of the Grand Moff losing it completely.

But Tarkin did nothing like that. He took a deep breath after a moment of silence, visibly deflating. He went from tense, ready to pounce, and back to his usual calm, collected self. It was a matter of seconds and the transformation was as shocking as the first one. Tarkin truly must have had a great grip on his emotions to be able to pull in all those negative feelings into himself back so fast. An impressive fit, Krennic had to admit.

“Lord Vader… Follow me.” He finally said, turning around.

His expression was empty, devoid of any emotions. He looked… normal. Krennic felt a little miffed when Tarkin didn’t say anything to him and just left the room, Vader following after him. Didn’t Tarkin just say they were discussing important things? And now he just dismissed Orson like a child? The Grand Moff clearly held no respect for him. It wasn’t anything new, but it stung, even more than the last time he was told off by the other.

“Not this time.” Orson muttered to himself with anger.

 

*** 

 

He followed them of course. Krennic knew it was probably a bad idea. For example, Vader could potentially sense him through the Force. He just hoped that they were too busy with each other to notice his presence.

Orson did not understand his own actions in that moment. He usually was more level-headed than this, despite his short temper. But he was just so angry at the way those two treated him, like he was air; like he wasn’t worthy of their time. Krennic did not fight his way to the top of the Empire only to be treated like some newbie. He was about to walk up to them both and give them a piece of his mind, tell them off for ignoring the importance of the work he was doing. Thankfully, the rational part of his brain stopped him before he did just that and ended up dead.

He heard the two man before he saw them. Just as he was about to round the corner, he stopped himself. Krennic listened for a moment, their voices now clear.

“-which is exactly why I told you that you cannot act like this!” Came an angry huff from Tarkin.

Now, this was interesting. Not only has he never heard the Grand Moff rise his voice like this before, but he also has never seen him letting his emotions go like this. He was clearly worked up over whatever they were discussing. Orson stood in his hiding spot, too afraid that if he poked his head around the corner to look they would notice him. So he stayed close to the edge of the wall and strained his ears to hear everything clearly.

“You know he killed the previous Director. It cannot go unpunished. He could cause serious problems in the future.” Spoke Vader in a seemingly bored tone, but there was a dark edge to it.

Krennic felt his breath stop, a feeling of dread making him break out into cold sweat. Kriff, they knew. They knew that he murdered the previous Director to get to his current position. He thought the issue was dealt with, that he was safe from any repercussions his actions would have. True fear swept over Orson. For the first time in a long while he felt like he was losing the grip he had over himself. His knees shook, a white like noise entered his ears. As if someone plucked them in with cotton. He heard Tarkin snapping something back at Vader, his voice raised even higher now, furious. But he could not recognize the words. They were muffled, as if he heard underwater. Vader spoke again, the Sith Lord himself clearly out of control now too. Both men seemed to have forgotten that they were in a public space, in the middle of a corridor where anyone could walk in on them, hear them and their conversation easily.

Orson breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down before he went into a full panic attack. There was a reason he was still alive, despite Vader being out for his blood. He needed to find out why, keep a cool head about this.

“-tell me that you have not thought about it!”

The last part of Vader’s sentence brought him out of the strange state he was in a few seconds ago. With great difficulty he steadied his breath and went back to listening.

“Vader, stop this ridiculous behavior! The Emperor himself said that this is to be left alone. Do you think he doesn’t know that Krennic is the one responsible? There is a reason he was allowed to live. You are questioning the Emperor’s decision with the way you are acting, you overgrown child!”

“I would never question my Master! You are the one I’m questioning! You are letting him so close to important information-”

“What are you talking about? This is his job, and as much as I am loath to admit it, sometimes I need him to get things done for the Death Star to be completed. And the way you are behaving like a demanding little boy is undermining my authority too!”

“You are allowing him too close to yourself! Why are you meeting with him alone, with no guards, no witnesses?”

“What the kirff Vader?! You never had this problem previously with the people I worked closely with. Why ar-“

“WHAT IF HE TRIES TO KILL YOU TOO WILHUFF?!”

A heavy silence followed the heated exchange. Krennic held his breath, afraid that if he so much as made a small sound he would break whatever was happening. And what was taking place was more fascinating than anything he had been able to witness in months. Here were the two most powerful men in the Empire, right after the Emperor, arguing like an old married couple. And not only that, it almost seemed as if those two were…

“A-Anakin…” Stuttered out Tarkin finally in a small, quiet whisper.

Krennic raised a surprised eyebrow at that. Anakin? Who the hell was Anakin?

“Don’t call me that.” Snapped back Vader, angrily.

To say Orson was surprised was an understatement. He was finding out more about the two from this short conversation than from months of having spies report to him. To think that he could have just done this ages ago. If this continued, maybe he would even be able to find out a weakness he could exploit. He really wanted to see Tarkin right now. He wished to observe this always controlled man lose his composure, he wanted to watch his face as it showed various emotions that the Grand Moff usually kept at bay. A strange feeling made itself known inside his body when he thought how Vader was privy to such displays from Tarkin. This new emotion was clawing at him, making him irrationally angry for some reason. It felt somehow like jealousy, but not quiet. More like an ugly envy that this blasted Sith Lord could provoke such reaction in Tarkin with nothing but a few words, while Krennic could only dream about having the Grand Moff react like this to him.

He heard Vader’s heavy steps moving, then Tarkin’s softer ones too. For a second he was afraid that he would be found out. Orson was ready to bolt, but then a soft thud of a body hitting the corridor’s wall  and an unhappy huff reached his ears and he stopped. No longer being able to control himself, he looked over the corner. His eye widened when he saw what was happening.

Vader backed Tarkin into the wall, looming over the other man. He almost shielded him fully from Krennic’s view with his tall, dark frame. A strong hand held both of Tarkin’s frail wrists together above the older man’s head, the contrast between Vader’s black glove and the other’s pale skin almost blinding. The Grand Moff looked like a moth, pinned against the wall with no escape. Tarkin was looking up at Vader with a defiant expression, not saying anything, his mouth pulled into a tight line. But there was something soft in his eyes, an almost fond glint. It didn’t fit with the rest of his body language. He almost looked like a an owner looking at his pet that did something wrong, but the owner still loved it despite that. Krennic felt the ugly feeling rear its head again, his hate for Vader only growing. He didn’t feel like controlling his reaction, not when no one could see him and he was free to express himself. He would question the origin of this later in his quarters, when his mind was clearer. Orson’s eyes narrowed at the pair as he listened to Vader’s rasping breath, his hands tightening against the wall till his fingers turned white when he saw the Sith Lord move even closer to Tarkin, squashing the man uncomfortably.

“You have gotten too attached. You know this cannot continue.” He heard Tarkin whisper softly.

Vader chuckled darkly and huffed in amusement.

“A little too late for that, don’t you think so…Captain Tarkin?” Said Vader, his own voice now devoid of the scorching anger.

Tarkin’s face immediately went through a magical transformation at those words. It relaxed and took on a sad, almost melancholic look. The fond glint in his eyes shone brighter.

“Yes, I suppose it is too late for that.” Whispered Tarkin in thought.

Krennic watched with quickening pulse as the two men before him behaved so out of character while away from prying eyes. Or maybe, they weren’t acting so out of it as he thought. Maybe there was another angle to those two that they have never shown to anyone else, the true faces of Lord Vader and Wilhuff Tarkin, that they hid beneath their masks every day. Orson almost gasped out loud as the Sith’s free hand suddenly reached forward and cupped one side of Tarkin’s face gently. He knew how the other felt about physical touch. The Grand Moff never let anyone near him, always keeping his distance. When he was required to do so much as shake hands, he would do it briskly, cutting the contact short as quickly as possible. So what happened next made Orson do a double take. Tarkin’s eyes closed halfway, as he leaned into Vader’s touch, almost nuzzling against it like a cat. It was not a comparison Krennic would have ever used when describing the man before, but now… now it seemed to be the only one coming to his mind. Tarkin let out a low, soft hum of content at Vader’s action. But his next words betrayed his feelings on the whole situation.

“Why are you making this so difficult? We both know this cannot be, even if you-“ He started, clearly distressed.

“I don’t care. I never did and you know it.” Growled out Vader with impatience.

Krennic watched as Tarkin closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. His lips pulled into a delicate, sad smile as he opened them halfway, gazing at the Sith Lord with some unreadable emotion, the icy pools now sparkling.

“Oh Anakin, you are still a terrible liar.” Spoke Tarkin weakly.

It was as if a dam broke. Suddenly Vader was all over the other man. He let go of the frail wrists and grabbed Tarkin around his narrow waist, pulling him from the wall, against himself. Tarkin crushed against the black clad chest, using his now free hands to balance himself by putting them on the Sith’s chest plate. Vader’s other hand reached behind the Grand Moff’s head, keeping it in place, forcing Tarkin to stare into the expressionless mask. Their new position allowed for Krennic to see them both from the side, the shorter man appearing even smaller now compared to Vader. It was like watching a beast straight from a nightmare just waiting to devour this weak, frail human, with no way of escaping. But Tarkin did not look scared or like he wanted to move away anytime soon. In fact, he appeared breathless and solely focused on the beast in question, his gaze captured by Vader’s sightless one. For a moment, Krennic thought that he saw the man even tremble slightly, but it must have been his imagination.

Vader leaned his face closer to Tarkin’s then.

“You have no idea how much I regret not being able to use my lips anymore. Do you know why Wilhuff?” Growled Vader softly.

Tarkin stayed quiet, but his gaze dropped to the place where the Sith’s mouth should have been. A dark clad hand moved from behind his head and grabbed his chin roughly, forcing the Grand Moff to look back up. It held his face there, as a thick thumb grazed the slightly parted thin lips.

“Because right now I would like nothing more than to kiss you till you forget how to speak, forget your own name. I want to devour you like I used to in the past, leave you breathless and confused. I want to shut you up, but I also want to hear those sweet moans and whines you used to let out when I had you, over, and over again.”

Orson felt his mouth go slack. This was not going the way he expected it to. And Tarkin wasn’t faring any better it seemed. His eyes were wide and they have darkened in obvious arousal at Vader’s words. He was flushing, his usually pale skin a lovely shade of pink now. Tarkin’s own breath was as labored as Vader’s now too. The hands on the Sith’s chest plate tightened into fists, almost turning white, his whole body giving out a full out tremble.

It was fascinating to watch Tarkin come undone like this.

“Most of all, I want to show you exactly where you belong, because you seem to have forgotten that.” Continued Vader.

It is then that the strangest thing of the day happened. Tarkin burst out laughing. It was a clear, pleasant sound, slightly deeper than Krennic would have expected. It was not one of his dark, amused chuckles, or the huff of veiled disgust he sometimes let out. No, this sound was pure amusement, with a happy ring to it. It again transformed Tarkin’s face completely, making him look soft and approachable. The artificial light in the corridor only highlighted his defined features, making him look like a representative of a royal family of old. Icy eyes were closed in mirth, the harsh lines on Tarkin’s usually frowning face evening out. He was… very attractive like this, looked years younger. Orson, until today, was not aware that Tarkin had such a wide range of emotions, or that he was able to display them like this. It truly was fascinating and in a way, dared he say it, breathtaking. It was like looking at a stranger for the first time.

“Vader, Vader… I think you are forgetting yourself a little. My memory is not that bad, despite my age, and I am certain you were never the real master in this relationship. Or am I wrong? Tell me…” Started Tarkin, a smirk gracing his lips.

One of the Grand Moff’s hands moved down Vader’s chest slowly. Then, the Sith Lord suddenly tensed and groaned. Krennic couldn’t see what Tarkin was doing, because Vader’s cape and arm blocked the view, but his imagination didn’t need much. After all, there was only one thing that could have happened to cause such reaction and Orson shuddered at Tarkin’s boldness.

“If I told you that I would let you fuck me against the wall right now, you would do anything I asked, wouldn’t you… Sithling?” Continued Tarkin.

The words uttered by the Grand Moff sounded so crass compared to his usual speech pattern. But Orson found he liked this, this new, exciting Tarkin. This man who could control another, more powerful than himself, with a simple touch and a few words. If he had a grudging respect for the Grand Moff before, now he had to admit he openly admired Tarkin. The nickname, however, for some reason bothered him a lot and provoked the unnamed, ugly feeling to spread through his body again.

“Wilhuff…” Growled out Vader in a warning.

But Tarkin just tutted at him in disappointment.

“No, no Sithling. We had a talk about this kind of behavior, especially away from the privacy of our quarters.”

Vader seemed to be ignoring Tarkin’s words. He rubbed himself against the other man, his breathing harsh. He looked like a big cat now, a dangerous, black panther. And Tarkin… Tarkin was controlling this wild animal so easily.

“Please, let me-” He tried pleading this time, but the Grand Moff seemed to be done with feeling nostalgic.

A hard look entered his eyes. They now looked like two icicles, a brewing storm, boring into the man before him, wanting him to submit.

“I will not have you undermine my authority ever again with actions like today, do you understand me Vader? And you will stop this possessive behavior of yours. I know exactly what you are doing Sithling. Never forget who owns who here. Most importantly, remember that there are more important things than what you want.”

A tense silence followed those words as Tarkin let go off the Sith Lord, pushing him away softly and stepping back. There was some distance now between them, but they were still focused on each other. Vader seemed ready to explode, and either kill Tarkin or pounce on him. The Grand Moff on the other hand was gazing at the Dark Lord calmly now, his face once more the usual visage of coldness.

Vader finally nodded his head, still tense. Tarkin nodded back at him and watched as the Sith turned around sharply and walked away. Once he was sure Vader was gone and he couldn’t hear his footsteps, Tarkin deflated and sighed tiredly. He trembled a little, taking a deep breath of air. His face once again expressed a deep sadness, and now his eyes were full of longing and pain as he watched the spot where Vader stood before. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, a state Orson would never in his life attribute to the powerful man. It felt wrong, seeing him like this, but also strangely exciting.

“Oh Anakin, how I wish you didn’t fall for me like this.” Tarkin whispered to himself.

He bit his bottom lip in worry and used a hand to push back his hair slightly. Not that he needed to do this really, considering the neat way in which he always combed them, but it looked like a habit he picked over the years; unconscious. He straightened after that and took another deep breath, clearing his face of any lingering emotion. He was once again Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, the third most powerful man in the Empire, not the emotional creature that Orson saw a few seconds ago. Tarkin turned towards the window in the corridor, looking at the dark vastness of space, his sharp eyes glinting with thought. He made a step towards the glass, gazing in contemplation.

“And I wish I wasn’t so selfish myself and let you go years ago.” Whispered the man softly to himself, the previous sadness visible on his face for a short moment again.

Tarkin shook his head as if trying to rid himself of those thoughts. In a sharp twist of his body, he turned to walk back briskly to the room where he was working with Krennic before this.

But the Director was already moving away from the wall, the moment he saw the other’s body tense to move. He walked fast, almost ran to reach the room before Tarkin, so he wouldn’t be found out. But there was a spring to his step, a certain giddiness. He almost felt drunk on the energy he was feeling. Because finally Orson Krennic found a weak point in Tarkin’s armor and he was going to exploit it in every possible way.

He could not wait to finally have the older man in the palm of his hand.


	2. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language.
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> ***
> 
> I hope the wait was worth it guys. 
> 
> Btw, I have not read "Catalyst," tho I know some things. I did watch "Rogue One." Still, this is fanfiction and I totally changed up some stuff, so canon can stuff it I guess.   
> Also, Krennic is a walking human disaster, just saying.

Before approaching Tarkin, Krennic knew he had to observe the two men some more. It wouldn’t do to base his whole plan of dealing with the Grand Moff on that one, random scene he saw. The nature of the relationship between them at that time, while clearly close and even intimate, was still under question. Was it a recent thing, or did they know each other for a long time? While Tarkin appeared to be calling the shots between them, Vader was still physically stronger and had the Force on his side. The way he could easily manhandle and even kill the smaller man, yet didn’t, made Orson wonder.

How?

How did Tarkin manage to tame Vader, who was in so many ways above him. How was he able to claim that which brought terror into the hearts of every man as his own. Why would he even attempt to do that in the first place. Was there some secret to Lord Vader that only Tarkin was privy to that made this feat possible? Krennic spent a few sleepless nights getting drunk and thinking on those things, instead of dealing with the growing pile of reports on his desk.

He felt like a teenager obsessively stalking his crush that was already in a relationship. Not that he was feeling anything but deep displeasure when thinking about Tarkin. At least he wanted to believe that, but with each day that he spied on the two men he was doubting his own feelings more and more. Before, he used to idolize Lord Vader. The kind of power he wielded, exclusive only to those chosen by the mysterious Force itself. So destructive… Lord Vader was one of the reasons he was building the Death Star in the first place. He felt inspired by the ominous and powerful figure of the Sith Lord, wanting to create something as dark as the man himself and just as feared. Krennic also wanted to prove to everyone and to the Dark Lord that even a human without such powers could wield something so terrifying and so enormous in its destructive abilities.

That was before he met Tarkin and his obsession with Vader slowly switched to the man who without any of the Sith’s powers was able to put Krennic down so easily. A few words here and there, a micro expression, a huff of ridicule, and Orson was brimming with emotions. He did not notice the moment he no longer cared about what Vader thought of his project and instead his whole energy switched to proving to Tarkin that his idea, his weapon, was an answer to the Rebellion problem. Krennic knew the Grand Moff didn’t believe in the Death Star’s abilities. When he was first presented with the project he simply brushed it off as a ridiculous idea of a man who was dreaming way above his station and abilities. Thankfully, Krennic was given the possibility of proving him wrong after the project was approved by the Emperor himself.

The next time Tarkin met with Orson was on the man’s own ship, an enormous and beautiful thing Krennic had to admit. Everything was working like in a well taken care of clock on the _Executrix_ , Tarkin’s personal vessel.

Orson remembered the first time he was walking down the many corridors, noting how spotless they were despite the hundreds of people that walked them every day. When he approached the owner of said ship, his back was to Krennic and he was gazing at the beginnings of the Deaths Star in space. He did not turn around to greet Orson. Instead he simply titled his head slightly to the right, indicating that he was aware of the approaching man.

“Director Orson Krennic… If my memory serves me right, I had the displeasure of meeting you before. Isn’t that right?” Said Tarkin, his Imperial accent strong, the words mocking.

Krennic bristled in anger at the obvious slight, but decided to keep calm for the time being.

“Governor Tarkin, I assure you, the feeling is mutual. Oh, forgive me, I should have called you by your current title. The Grand Moff… It sounds strange, doesn’t it? I already heard a few people joking about it. But I suppose you are proud of it, since I heard that it was you who pitched the name idea to the Emperor.” Answered Krennic, smirking at his triumph.

A few Officers behind him looked at the exchange with wide eyes. Some hurried to get as far away from their superior as possible, others pretended to be immersed in their work. They knew angering Tarkin was a bad idea, something Krennic was soon to learn.

The Grand Moff stood silent for a few seconds, until one word left his mouth, breaking the silence.

“Childish.” Tsked the man in a patronizing and displeased tone.

Orson’s eyes widened slightly at the word chosen, then he felt his cheeks slowly becoming red as finally Tarkin turned around, gazing at him with a frown, his icy eyes sharp and unforgiving.

“You have not changed since I met you Krennic, still a boy that wants to pretend to be a grown up. You are trying to do something that a person of your background has no business doing, so I advise you to behave at least a little more as your current rank would indicate, or I will be speaking with the Emperor about replacing you.” Came Tarkin’s next words.

Orson’s mouth was slightly parted in disbelief, his cheeks still red from his embarrassment and anger. How dare this man treat him like, like… the dirt beneath his shoes. Krennic was just as intelligent as the Grand Moff, if not more, just as ruthless, and just as ambitious. He always believed he would find a kindred spirit in the man who was hailed as a hero by his home planet and recognized in the Empire as one of its most important and brilliant players. Instead, all he got from Tarkin was scorn and disgust. It was then that Krennic’s snarl started to often grace his features as his meetings with the older men increased.

“Let me be crystal clear Krennic so you don’t have any delusions about this whole… endeavor. I do not believe your big ball in the sky is going to be of any use to the Empire and it is a waste of time. For some reason, however, the Emperor decided to give you a chance, which is a rare thing with such a risky project, so I hope you are aware of what is at stake, should it fail. Because the Emperor likes to keep an eye on all important affairs in his Empire, he tasked me to watch over the construction and report whether the weapon truly works, or if maybe there is a need for a new strategy… and a new Advanced Weapons Research Director. Therefore, since I take my work seriously and take pride in it, I promised the Emperor himself that I would endeavor to make this monstrosity of yours work, if it is possible. I will not sabotage the project and will give it all of my attention and resources. All you need to do is focus on following my instructions and reporting everything to me. Nothing will be done without my approval. Is that understood, Krennic?”

A tense silence took over the room. Everyone was holding their breath, watching the two men as they gazed at each other sternly, a battle of wills commencing. Tarkin’s icy gaze pierced Krennic, willing him to submit to the older man. The Grand Moff stood straight, appearing much taller than he really was. Behind him, the beginnings of the Death Star and the vast, dark space made him look like some war god, glaring at the mortal who dared to question him. But Krennic in this case was a nonbeliever, a pagan who would do anything to prove his superiority over this false god standing before him. Even if Tarkin was impressive, despite being past his prime. His eyes flashed with hidden cruelty and almost animal instinct. A smirk graced his features despite the degrading words thrown at him. After all, there can only be one Alpha male when two predators meet. Orson would make sure that he would take out the older man and take his place in the Empire’s food chain. He would see Wilhuff Tarkin at his feet, because he knew his project would grant him favor from the Emperor.

“But of course Grand Moff, I assure you, everything will go according to your wishes.”

An obvious lie, wailed with pretty words. But Tarkin easily saw through it, through Krennic’s upturned lips and the small bow of acknowledgment of the man’s head. Icy eyes narrowed in anger at being so openly disobeyed.

“I hope you are aware Krennic that the only reason the Emperor even considered the project wasn’t because of you. You have your friend Galen Erso to thank for keeping your post. He is the genius that truly caught the Emperor’s eye. Not you.” Said Tarkin slowly, clearly enjoying the look of realization on Krennic’s face.

Orson’s expression darkened in anger. He thought the previous slight would somehow unsettle the other, but Tarkin was three steps ahead of him again.

“Well then Krennic, you are dismissed. Report to me as soon as possible with the current status of the project and all the documentation needed.”

With that Tarkin turned his back on Orson, once more gazing out the window; fully ignoring the other man.

Krennic snarled in anger, knowing Tarkin could no longer see him. With a dramatic swipe of his cape, he turned tensely around and with heavy footsteps started to leave. But before he could go prepare for his next meeting with Tarkin, the Grand Moff spoke again, his back still to Krennic.

“Oh, and I prefer to be called Governor. Do remember that Krennic.”

Orson stopped for a moment, also not turning around. He relaxed a little, his body no longer strung up with his fury. A lazy smirk slowly appeared on his lips.

“I hope I will remember that… Grand Moff.” He answered with false sweetness.

Tarkin’s unhappy and irritated huff after was the sound that helped him sleep easy that day.

 

***

 

It was so obvious once one knew what to look for. They weren’t even subtle about it. Every move, every glance, every tilt of the head, every breath was giving them away. Were they even aware of how see-through they were? Maybe the fact that no one caught on yet made them let their guard down a little. Or could it be that they saw everyone else as so beneath them they didn’t even think for once that someone could notice? But no, that couldn’t be it. Tarkin was obviously distressed about Vader’s behavior that first time Orson saw them together. 

Krennic felt like biting his own cape. He would narrow his eyebrows in unfounded anger, his nostrils flaring, the beginnings of his usual snarl appearing, twisting his handsome face slightly; all because he would see Vader walking into the room already occupied by Tarkin. His distain towards the Grand Moff was well known so he didn’t worry about anyone noticing a visible change in his behavior or that it switched targets. This way he could easily spy on Vader and Tarkin without anyone knowing.

Orson’s eyes flashed with strong and wild emotions, too fast to analyze or catalogue, as he observed Vader coming closer to Tarkin, standing next to the other. He could see the way the Sith’s body touched the olive-green clad shoulder, brushing against it as if by accident. The Grand Moff’s own body immediately gravitated towards the familiar figure, without Tarkin even looking to see who stood behind him, making its owner almost plaster himself against Vader. The Sith Lord said something, but Krennic wasn’t paying attention to the words. They were like static to him, an irritating buzzing of a fly. No, his gaze was focused on the way Vader’s helmet leaned slightly towards Tarkin’s ear, blowing hot air against it and ruffling some of the silver hair. Orson felt a surprising warmth fill his body as he observed the way the Grand Moff shivered slightly at the gesture. He bit his lower lip as his gaze trailed over Tarkin’s pale, stretched neck, as the older man turned his head to answer Vader.

Those… feelings that have been taking over him as of late confused Orson. He always believed he hated Tarkin, wanted to see the man submit before him, acknowledge Krennic’s superiority. But the more he observed Vader and Tarkin together, the more he realized that maybe he wanted to dominate the Grand Moff in a slightly different manner than originally planned.

Tarkin turned out to be a much more fragile and sensual creature than the Director thought. Or at least he appeared like that when alone with Vader. After that first time, Orson was able to witness more private moments between those two. It was always initiated by Vader, who greedily touched Tarkin every time he got the chance. He was always so focused on the other, he never felt Krennic in the Force, always near them. So much for the feared Sith Lord. All that was needed to distract him was the Grand Moff. But if Orson were to be honest with himself, he slowly started to understand just why Vader might be so fascinated with Tarkin, besides their previous history that the Director still wasn’t able to uncover.

When Tarkin was with the bigger man and away from prying eyes, he suddenly showed a variety of emotions that he would never be caught displaying in public. Orson could not help but watch obsessively the different feelings passing through the man’s face, committing the way he looked with them to memory. He especially felt unable to look away when he observed the way Tarkin’s body relaxed against Vader, how it naturally gravitated towards the Sith, seeking him out, even when the Grand Moff was verbally protesting or scolding his partner. And despite the fact that it was clearly Tarkin having control of how their meetings would progress and how much Vader could get away with, his body still submitted to the Sith, bending itself to accommodate him. It was almost obscene how displayed Tarkin looked, despite being fully clothed, because he always walked so stiffly and looked so strict that Orson would have never guessed that the Grand Moff could stretch himself so… invitingly.

But while his feelings towards Tarkin started to dangerously switch from hate filled to sexual in nature, his view on Vader took a turn for the worse. Before he idealized the man, but now… now he wanted him to disappear. There were many reasons why. The most obvious was that he was too close to Tarkin for his liking. He took too much of the Grand Moff’s time, taking his attention away from Krennic’s Death Star and Orson himself. There was also the growing want and desire that the Director was beginning to feel for his superior, so the constant sneaking around like teenagers between the two caused him to be more snappish and distracted. Yet, Orson knew that was only partly why he began to lose respect for the Sith Lord. He saw how Vader acted more often now in various environments. He had a worse temper than even Krennic, easily using the Force to get his way or punish people. If it wasn’t for Tarkin holding Vader back, there probably would be a lot more corpses around. Orson was impulsive and even violent, true, but he did not see the point of losing men just because they disagreed with him or failed him once or twice. It happened, after all they were all people. Which is why he watched with distain as Vader so easily murdered people for the most trifle things. Because the Dark Lord behaved as if he were god, just because he had the Force on his side. Like he was above everyone else. Krennic might have even believed that once about him. But he was young and stupid back then, and so, so naïve. He saw the Empire’s true face as well as that of Darth Vader and his foolish, teenage dreams of grandeur and his _hero_ were crushed very fast.

Orson of course used to be fascinated with that strange power, only gifted to a few. Its possibilities were endless. Each person that used the Force appeared to have a set of different abilities. He heard that the Emperor could shoot actual lighting out of his hands, the whispers about it circulating around the Empire. Then there was Vader who threw men and objects alike, much heavier than him, with easy. He also easily choked people. The Force, the mythical Jedi, the Sith… they were what inspired Krennic to create the Death Star. He managed to also drag Galen Erso into his own obsession. This way, he had what he needed to make his ambitious dream come true. Orson had Galen’s brilliant mind and his own, almost desperate, drive to reach his goal. His deep need to prove himself.

Such a shame he and his friend were on such bad terms now. He missed the old Galen a lot…

When he thought up the Death Star, he was still in the Academy. He remembered having a huge hangover after another night of drinking and sex. He also had a huge test that day for which he didn’t study. Krennic glanced then at the sleeping Galen, piles of books next to his bed. Orson recalled how miserable he felt. It was right before sunrise so his roommate was still out of it. Krennic allowed for the tears he always held back to fall. He knew he would fail the exam. He knew that it meant he would once again have to re-take it and face the punishment for his failure. The tears burnt his eyes as his misery at being not good enough turned to anger at not being able to control himself. Anger that no one could see his true potential, his brilliant ideas that everyone rejected because he wasn’t the top of the class. No, that spot was taken by Galen. He didn’t hate the other for it, or maybe he did, he didn’t remember. The truth was that he went to so many parties and slept around so much so he could build connections for the future, because Orson knew that he needed a backup plan if everything didn’t go as planned. In his room, with red eyes and an angry snarl, Orson Krennic took an empty notebook and started to sketch and write everything he wanted to do, everything that his life revolved around. He scribbled in the rising sun, in the early hours of the day as life started to awaken. He fell asleep on at the desk, tired from the emotional high he went through.

When he woke up next it was late afternoon. He missed all his classes and the test. Krennic groaned in           misery. This is when he noticed the hangover medicine next to him and a glass of water. When he moved to take it he felt a blanket slip off his shoulders that wasn’t there before, taking the pleasant warmth with it. Orson shivered as he saw Galen Erso, someone he didn’t talk too much really before, look over his notes. It was then that their friendship started. Galen was actually impressed with Krennic’s ideas. He offered to help with some of them, fascinated at the concept of somehow using the Force by people not gifted with it. While the idea was fantastical at best, it was still possible in a way. And so, Orson began taking his studies more seriously with Galen’s help, while Krennic made sure his roommate would finally get a social life. It all worked brilliantly until Galen met Lyra, then it all started to fall apart…

But that was in the past and Krennic was here, now. And the more he observed Vader, the more Orson wanted to be able to choke him himself. How he misused the Force on childish tantrums and cheap scares, instead of using it to make the Empire stronger! If he would share his knowledge on the Force and the power of kyber crystals, maybe the Death Star could be made much more powerful and it would be built faster. If he could only get an audience with the Emperor, maybe he could convince him that-

“Krennic! By the stars, are you even listening to me?”

Orson turned to look at Tarkin as his irritated voice finally cut through his trip down the memory lane. Still, so lost in thought he was that he didn’t really register what the other man said. He just gazed in slight confusion at him, trying really hard to guess what was asked of him.

“Yes, Sir?” He responded automatically, the drill from his Academy days slipping in to aid him. 

He gazed at Tarkin, the man’s full attention on him. Out of the corner of his eye he was able to spot Vader hanging in the back, not even pretending that he was impatiently waiting for Tarkin to come back to him. Krennic smiled in delight that he managed to snag the Grand Moff away from the Sith for at least some time. Even if the man in question appeared to be very angry right now and he was probably the source. Well, as angry as Tarkin would show in public, which meant his voice showed his displeasure, he was rolling his eyes, sighing tiredly, and glaring at Krennic. But Orson couldn’t help but start to notice other things. For example, how soft Tarkin’s hair looked right now. Was it always like this? Or was he noticing it now, because his interest in the man shifted? Or maybe it was because of him spying on Vader and Tarkin. He saw the Grand Moff mess with his hair so often after those secret meetings that he involuntarily  started to wonder. Wondered what it would be like to run his gloveless fingers through the silver strands, stare at them for hours, because when the light hit them just right, it looked as if Tarkin’s hair was made of moonlight. He needed to know and once he wanted something, Krennic did anything he could to get it.

“Krennic, I will not repeat myself. You will come to my office once you are done here. We need to discuss that worrying breach in security.” Spoke Tarkin harshly, his accent made stronger by his irritation, making the words almost hard to understand at times.

Orson nodded mindlessly, starring now at Tarkin’s lips. They were rather thin and a pale color, giving the man a sever look. Often twisted in a grimace or pulled in a tight line, they were not the most inviting. But then Vader’s words came to his mind, words of a time when the Sith’s own lips touched those of Wilhuff Tarkin. And he wondered again, unable to stop his racing thoughts. Could it be that appearances were deceiving, as he was already proven by his superior? Maybe Tarkin’s lips were actually really soft. Maybe they were smooth, perfect for a hungry tongue to glide over, making them glisten. Would the Grand Moff part them easily and let Orson explore him, his taste, devour him. Would they let out pants of breath, barely caught between kisses? And would they let delicious noises to come through them, whimpers and groans of pleasure, whispers of more, of a need as burning as Orson’s? Or would they lock, teasing at what’s inside, making him work hard to hear even the barest sound? Would Tarkin keep him from that which he wanted?

Of course he would. It did not mean Krennic would give up, far from it.

“Lord Vader, you wished to speak with me in private?”

“Yes, I have a message from the Emperor for your ears only.”

“But of course. Lead the way please. Krennic, don’t forget about our meeting.”

“I believe he is not listening.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious. Do you have anything to do with that Lord Vader? I thought we discussed the mind control issue already?”

“I wish I did, but this time it’s hi-”

The exchange between Vader and Tarkin cut off when the two men left the room, the doors shutting with a hiss behind them. Krennic kept looking at the spot where the Grand Moff stood a few seconds ago. The conversation, while to others would sound normal, to Orson felt more like one held by spouses. The anger and jealousy that shot through his body finally cleared his mind.

He knew what he had to do.

 

***

 

He might have drunk a little before going to see Tarkin. Liquid courage was not something he usually needed, but what he was about to do could be risky. Kriff, it could get him killed if he didn’t play his cards right. He was betting everything on a feeling, a feeling he got from observing Vader and Tarkin for weeks. Because despite the clear chemistry those two had, the sexual tension in the air surrounding them, and even how their bodies acted as if they were two parts of one trying to get back together, there was something else under it all. When Orson saw them during those moments caught between work, he didn’t only observe as the Sith Lord put his paws all over the Grand Moff. No, he also saw the aftermath of those, when Vader was long gone, while Tarkin remained alone. And when he was alone he looked so… broken. Krennic saw it and he heard it all, how the older man lamented over his inability to let the Sith go, how he berated himself over and over again for not just cutting off this whole thing a long time ago (how long, Orson had no idea, but he assumed at this point that it has been some time since those two knew each other). Tarkin looked so tired then, so weak. Krennic both relished and hated those moments. Because as much as he wanted to dominate the other, he also wanted him in his prime, not this shell of the powerful man. On the other hand, he was fascinated by this vulnerable Wilhuff Tarkin as much as he was by the one who dared to call Vader “Sithling” and was so close to the dangerous man.

Tarkin also cemented what Krennic suspected not only with his behavior, but also with his words. One time, when Vader was very close to just straight up tearing the man’s clothes off, Tarkin actually growled at him in real anger.

“What do you think you are doing?!” Snarled the Grand Moff.

Vader rumbled deeply, clearly unhappy with the clear rejection. He still tried to open Tarkin’s uniform, remaining stubbornly silent, but Tarkin wouldn’t have it. He slapped the Sith’s hands away, betraying his own strength and military training in that one move. He was tense, his whole face showing his anger. Usually icy eyes were blazing like a storm now, burning the man in front of them with their fury.

“Stop it!” Hissed Tarkin.

He caught Vader’s wrists in his hands, making sure to keep them away from his body. Krennic could feel the sudden rise of the oppressive energy that always followed the Sith around. It was much heavier than usually. But Tarkin was clearly used to such behavior, because he didn’t bend and instead pushed the other slightly away from himself, a warning look in his eyes.

“Why? Why won’t you let me touch you?!” Came Vader’s accusing words.

“Of course I let you touch me, what are you talking abo-”

“Lies Wilhuff! It’s been weeks since I have seen under that blasted uniform of yours. So tell me, why?”

Tarkin opened his mouth slightly as if to respond, but then closed it. The fire in his eyes died some and now a hesitant look appeared on his face. He bit slightly on his bottom lip and turned his head to the side a little, breaking the eye contact he had with Vader. But the other man wouldn’t let the issue slide. He freed one of his hands and grabbed the chin in front of him harshly, forcing the Grand Moff to look back at him. Tarkin’s eyes… there was something in them, something that wasn’t there before. The emotion Orson was seeing surprised him.

He saw doubt.

Vader also seemed to have caught on the change in Tarkin because his grip softened and a tired sigh escaped him. He no longer appeared tense and the power coming from him in waves vanished altogether.

“What’s wrong Wilhuff? What it is that you are hiding from me?”

Krennic didn’t think he would ever hear the Sith speaking so softly, touch another so tenderly. He shouldn’t he surprised since he saw those two act out of character so many times by this point. Still, every time he was proven that those two were more human than he initially believed and his brain just couldn’t accept it as the simple truth it was.

“It’s nothing. Please, I need to get back to work. The Emperor is expecting a report from me.” Finally answered Tarkin after a few silent moments, trying to push Vader away once more, more gently this time; yet he kept holding one of his wrists, not letting go.

“You are running away. This is not like you at all. Something is on your mind. I can sense it in the Force, this deep, heavy feelin-”

“You promised you wouldn’t read my mind.”

Vader stopped speaking at Tarkin’s accusing words. The Grand Moff let go of the powerful man. They stood like that, looking at each other in silence. Finally Vader moved back a little, giving Tarkin back some much needed, personal space.

“You are clearly distressed. I wish I could help change that, but I also know you will not tell me what it is until you are ready. I will leave you alone for now, since it’s obvious my presence upsets you in some way. Just remember Wilhuff, you are not alone. We have each other and I am yours, as you are mine.” Spoke Vader softly and left.

Krennic watched, wanting to know what Tarkin would do. But he was not prepared to see the man shaking, choked sounds escaping him as silent tears spilled from the icy eyes. Despite being alone, the older man used his arm to hide his face and wipe the tears away, as if ashamed for showing such weakness. He dropped the arm, now slightly wet from his crying. Tarkin inhaled deeply and looked up, stretching his neck, closing his eyes. He breathed in and out a few times like this, slowly calming down his trembling body. Then he became still for a moment, so still Orson thought he looked like a statue, not a human being. But then, slowly, Tarkin let his head fall back into a normal position. When his eyes opened, there wasn’t a trace of his previous hurt. They were hard and cold; emotionless. His whole face got back its severe, thoughtful look. Tarkin straightened up, putting his hands behind his back in his signature pose. He smirked, but the smirk was… wrong. It was bitter and almost regretful.

“Are you really mine Anakin?” Tarkin asked the now empty hallway, his voice raspy.

Krennic felt a deep itch to go to him now, to just take the man in his arms, because what he saw reminded Orson too much of himself when he lost Galen to Lyra. On the other hand, he knew this could be his ticket to Tarkin. The Grand Moff was clearly losing Vader in some way. For some time now, their meetings became shorter and much more tense. Tarkin for sure was hiding something, it was clear as the day and even the Sith Lord picked up on it. He probably knew something that could somehow damage their relationship. And from what Krennic understood, Tarkin didn’t want to let go of Vader. He was unable to, but why? Maybe, just maybe, as impossible as it sounded, the Grand Moff actually loved the beast of a man. Although, Orson could not imagine someone loving Vader, in any shape or form.

But then another idea came to Krennic, an idea that was now pushing him forward to Tarkin’s quarters despite the uncertainty and fear gripping his heart. Maybe Tarkin was afraid of losing Vader, because he simply got used to him, got attached. He did accuse the Sith of the same, but it was obvious the Grand Moff was just as addicted to the other. What if… what if Orson could change the object of the man’s addiction? What if he could become the one thing Tarkin’s body and mind craved like a drug?

Krennic stopped in front of the door he has never had the privilege of seeing open before. He made sure once more that his clothing looked perfect, that his hair lay the way that made him look handsome and polished, but also a little rough around the edges. A confident smirk crawled over his lips.

Well, time to start the show.

 

***

 

When Orson finally buzzed on the door to inform the rooms’ resident of his arrival, at first he got no response. Did he miscalculate? Tarkin should be in his quarters by now. His shift ended at least two standard hours ago, there was no way he wasn’t in his rooms. Unless…

Unless he was with Vader.

Anger swallowed Krennic. The Sith Lord was interrupting him once again. Furiously, he punched the button once more. The buzzing sound repeated itself three times with no response on the other side. Orson was about to push it once more, when a distorted voice coming through the speaker stopped him.

“Yes? Who is it?” Spoke Tarkin in a clearly unhappy tone.

Krennic swallowed, looking for the courage and strong feelings that brought him here, but they seemed to have vanished the moment he heard Tarkin’s voice. With a deep breath, he calmed his racing heart.

“It’s Director Krennic, Grand Moff Tarkin. I wish to speak with you.” He answered, a little too fast for his liking.

Damn him, he couldn’t be losing his cool before he even entered the room. He was supposed to be in control.

“Krennic? I am off my shift right now. If it isn’t something that will make the Empire fall apart, then it can wait till I had my break. Now leave.” Snapped Tarkin, clearly irritated with Orson’s mere presence and the interruption of his rest.

But Krennic was not going to give up so easily. Weeks of spying on Tarkin, of seeing him in a new light only made his desire to bend the other to his will grow. And he would do it, here and now.

“Governor, please, I really need to speak with you about a… private matter.” He said, making his voice sound a little desperate.

Krennic smirked at the following silence. Hook, line, and sinker. Not only did he use Tarkin’s preferred title, something he hasn’t done for a long time, but the added “please” and the mystery of the matter that was up for discussion for sure would make Tarkin curious. Or at least Orson hoped so. After all, the Grand Moff was a man who liked to know everything about everyone, to keep them in line. Krennic giving up something private would be beneficial to the older man. If only he knew that this was exactly what Orson wanted him to do.

“Alright then. You may enter.” Came Tarkin’s next words as the sound of the door unlocking followed.

Krennic watched in anticipation as the blast doors parted to reveal Tarkin’s personal quarters. Almost with reverence, Orson passed the threshold, walking inside the rooms. The décor wasn’t surprising. It was very minimalistic, only the most needed furniture spread around the room. Of course Krennic couldn’t see into the man’s bedroom or his bathroom, but his office room, that also doubled as living room, gave him an idea of how they might look. Everything was done in a cold palette of greys and blacks, a huge window that also worked as one of the walls showing the black space, but also allowed Tarkin to observe the Death Star and its progress. Krennic kept staring at the window, surprised the Grand Moff would have something so revealing in his personal rooms.

“It’s shaded from the other side. No one can see what is happening in these rooms.”

Tarkin’s amused words cut through Krennic’s mind. He must have known what the Director was thinking. Orson turned to gaze at him, noticing that the other wasn’t even looking at him, but also staring through the glass. His eyes widened when he took fully in the older man. For the first time since he met him, Tarkin wasn’t wearing his uniform. Instead the man had on a pair of comfortable looking grey pants and a white shirt, that looked to be made from some soft and breathable material. It was very thin too and allowed Krennic to glimpse the shape of the thin body hidden beneath it, despite hanging loosely on Tarkin. The shirt was trimmed in places with a shimmering, silver thread, which made it appear to be an expensive object. Krennic assumed that both the pants and the shirt were pricy, since they belonged to the Grand Moff. He did come from a rich family and was probably used to finer things in life. The fact that he wore those inside his personal quarters only proved that. Which, however, did not explain why Tarkin’s rooms looked so bare and simple. Or the way he designed the uniforms. But that wasn’t important right now.

What actually made Krennic’s breath stop was that the other wasn’t wearing any shoes, nor socks. He was barefoot and Orson couldn’t help but trace the naked feet of his superior with almost obsessive devotion. Krennic didn’t find it surprising that they looked well cared for. Slightly touched with age, but despite that, they looked healthy, the nails evenly trimmed and manicured. Tarkin’s feet were as pale as the rest of the skin Orson was able to glimpse. The man’s toes were rather long and thin, the feet themselves similar in built. Krennic wondered what they would look like curled in pleasure, how they would pull tight as Orson would-

“What it is that was so important that you couldn’t wait till my break ended, Krennic?” Asked Tarkin, once again in an irritated voice.

Orson was about to answer, but something else caught his attention.

“Why do you keep refusing to call me by my proper title?” He shot at the other.

 Krennic felt his cheeks color slightly at his sudden outburst, his mouth shutting close right away. It was something that has been bothering him for a while now. Despite the embarrassment, he locked gazes with Tarkin, who raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. The Grand Moff huffed in distain and turned around, walking to a cabinet that was hanging on the wall, not far from where he was standing. He was silent as he opened it, revealing a line of bottles, clearly filled with different kinds of alcohol, and a few crystal glasses. Tarkin took out a strange looking, blue bottle and took one of the shorter glasses, and when he was done, he managed to close the cabinet’s doors with his arm. Then he started to walk towards a black, leather armchair that stood in the living room part of the quarters. As Tarkin was putting the glass down and opening the bottle, with his back to Krennic, he started to speak.

“Was this the private matter that you wanted to discuss with me? You want to tell me you barged in on the little bit of free time I have to complain like a teenager that I’m not calling you by your preferred nickname? Truly Krennic, I expected a little more, even from someone like you.”

Orson almost forgot how badly the man’s words could strike him. But this time he wouldn’t leave, despite the humiliation. Because he had a plan he was going to follow and because he knew things about Tarkin that kept him rooted to the spot.

The glass was now half full with an electric blue liquid. Tarkin stopped pouring. He closed the bottle and put it on the small table standing next to the armchair. He turned around to finally look at Krennic as he sipped a little from the glass. Then, without another word, he also put the glass on the table and sat in the armchair, getting comfortable. The Grand Moff crossed one leg over the other and laced his finger together under his chin, putting his elbows on the twin, black arms of the furniture piece.

“Well then, since this is such a pressing matter for you, let me answer your question, so maybe you will no longer have a reason to bother me with such insignificant problem.” Said Tarkin slowly, relishing in putting Krennic down.

He leaned back in the armchair with a smirk on his face. Orson wanted to hate him right now, but all he could focus on was how handsome and much younger Tarkin looked when in a more relaxed setting, how the sleeves of the shirt fell down a little, pooling around the man’s elbows. Their descent revealed more pale skin to Krennic’s hungry eyes and he felt warmth pooling in his body. By stars, he didn’t think he had it this bad. It couldn’t be just those weeks he spied on Vader and Tarkin, it must have started earlier, this strange fascination and infatuation he seemed to have with the Grand Moff. Maybe he confused his own feelings from the very beginning and only became aware of their true nature when he saw what he could have? Could it be that from day one he simply wanted Tarkin for himself and he just hated that he couldn’t control the man, because then he couldn’t have him?

“There are various reasons for why I don’t do it. But I will not waste my time listing them all, as I believe two stand out the most.” Continued Tarkin, reaching to take his abandoned drink in hand.

Orson watched hypnotized as the long, elegant fingers grasped around the crystal in a sure grip. His gaze followed the glass as it was lifted to those thin lips Krennic has been thinking about more and more each day. His breath caught when the electric blue liquid splashed against them, some of it staying, staining the pale pink with its vibrancy. Krennic kept watching Tarkin as he drank, the way his neck stretched and how his Adam’s apple bobbed with the movement. The Director swallowed, feeling himself become more flushed. When the older man was finally done, he put the glass back down, licking his lips to take off the drink’s residue. If Orson were a lesser man, he would have whimpered at how sensual the movement looked. It also made Tarkin’s lips glisten just the way Krennic imagined they would. Coupled with the man’s even more relaxed position after the few sips of alcohol he took, the way he was dressed, and how much of his skin was showing, Orson could only admire his own self-control. Usually, he would already be upon the person who provoked such reactions in him, but he knew he needed to be more careful with the Grand Moff.

“The first reason is that your title is really meaningless at this point. Since you took over as _Director_ of Advanced Weapons Research, you have only worked on your pet project. Following that thought, since the Emperor has tasked me with looking after the whole operation, I make all the important decisions. You are basically a Director of nothing at this point. So why should I use the title if it does not really mean anything? You are just another person under my command.”

This brought Krennic out of his amorous state. He felt the old anger he had for Tarkin resurface. The Death Star was his! It was his idea, his dream, and he had every right to receive the respect he deserved. He still was responsible for a lot of things that happened to the project, Tarkin had no right not imply that he did not deserve his title. He was about to give the man a piece of his mind, but the next words turned his anger into cold fear.

“The second reason… You did not earn the title. You stole it Krennic. But we both know how that came to be, don’t we?” Spoke Tarkin darkly with obvious glee.

Orson swallowed hard, feeling his hands shake a little. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead and he was sure the other noticed. Of course Tarkin would bring that up. He really had no one but himself to blame for falling into the trap like a juvenile cadet. He had to think fast, because his plan was falling apart right before his eyes. Instead of actually coming on top, he was sinking.

Think, think, THINK!

“I know about you and Vader!”

Well, that didn’t come out like he imagined it would. Instead of devious glee, a smirk, and confidence, he blurted out his number one weapon like a kid. He really needed to work on his behavior around Tarkin if anything was going to go the way he wanted to. But the man simply had that effect on him, made him feel so immature.

The reaction he got from the Grand Moff also wasn’t what he suspected. Instead of denying his accusations and panic, he saw Tarkin simply raise an eyebrow in surprise, still sitting comfortably in his armchair. He watched Orson with a contemplating look as he hummed in thought. The fact the Tarkin had yet to speak was grating on Krennic’s nerves. Why was he so calm? Orson just told him that he knew of the man’s weakness, yet, Tarkin just kept quiet. It started to make him question if maybe he miscalculated.

“And what it is that you know about me and Lord Vader?” Asked Tarkin in a soft tone.

The way he said those words. This wasn’t a man afraid, this was a man amused. Orson watched as the older man reached for his drink once more. He was too calm about this. Krennic’s temper resurfaced and now he knew he would not be able to control himself so easily.

“About Vader fucking you.” He spat angrily.

Tarkin paused in bringing the crystal glass to his lips. He lowered it a little, still gazing calmly at Krennic, but now his brows were slightly drawn. His icy eyes flashed with some short of emotion that was gone too fast for Orson to identify.

Finally, Tarkin tsked in that typical way of his when he found something displeasing.

“Crude.” Was the only word that left his mouth.

Humiliated, that’s how he felt right now. Like a child scolded by their parent. But instead of only feeling anger, he also felt slightly aroused by the sharp way the word left Tarkin’s mouth, how his Imperial accent curled around it pleasantly, accenting the word strongly. He remembered when the Grand Moff spoke crudely himself to Vader and more heat spread through his body.

“So what now Krennic? You know our little secret. You could of course go and expose us, run like a little tattletale to the Emperor, if you finally manage to get an audience, and probably end my career and maybe even my life this way. But you see Krennic, this information is useless to you, because I know your little secret too, about killing the previous Director. I’m sure the Emperor would be just delighted to hear about it. Moreover, did you truly think he would believe your word over that of someone who has worked with him since the very beginning, and the word of his own apprentice?”

This time, Krennic smirked at Tarkin. He knew exactly how to get out of this one and turn it around to benefit him.

“Ah yes, you are right of course. But sadly, I do know that the Emperor did not order to kill me, despite my… misdeed. And before you say anything else, _Sir_ , I heard this coming from your own lips, right before Vader had you against a wall like a two credit whore.”

The look of surprise and shock that crossed Tarkin’s face in that moment was worth all the sneaking around for weeks and humiliation. Because finally Orson was clearly able to beat the Grand Moff at his own game. The elation this realization caused him was making him feel as if he were high on the best of drugs in the Galaxy. His face hurt from how wide his smile was. Krennic was sure his eyes were sparkling madly with glee. He could feel his cheeks flush from excitement. It was as if a fever was taking over his body. Orson was vibrating with strong emotions, waiting for Tarkin’s next move.

But what the Grand Moff did next once again took him by surprise.

Tarkin’s momentary loss of control over his own emotions passed quickly. His whole face smoothed out, taking on a relaxed look. He put back the drink on the table slowly, as softly as he could. A light chuckle escaped the man. Then he faced Orson again, gazing at him with surprising calm.

“Well then Krennic. It seems you have caught me at a disadvantage. Name your price.”

Krennic’s brain stopped for a short moment.

“Price?”

Tarkin clearly heard the confusion in his voice, because he sighed tiredly. He closed his eyes for a moment, furrowing his brow as if he was dealing with a nasty headache. Tarkin then opened them again, the icy eyes sharp and once more irritated. Krennic seemed to have the ability to cause the emotion in the older man quiet fast. He didn’t know if he should count it as an achievement.

“Yes, yes, the price for your silence on the matter of mine and Vader’s relationship.” Clarified the other.

Oh, he didn’t really think he would get that far.

“I want you to start calling me by my proper title.” He said without thought.

Damn him for spouting out things when he was nervous. Such a silly request for such a huge secret to be kept silent. But instead of mocking him, Tarkin simply nodded in agreement.

“But of course. Is that all, _Director_ Krennic?”

Orson shuddered in delight. Oh, how nicely it sounded when Tarkin called him Director. How positively right. He wondered what it would sound like on the man’s lips when he was breathless under him, begging him for more, those long toes curling as Orson denied the other his release…

_Please… Director…_

“I want what you have with Vader.” He said firmly, the vision in his mind giving him confidence.

He remembered why he came here in the first place, why he risked everything. And he was going to get it, one way or another. Orson Krennic was going to take the Grand Moff as his own and nothing would stop him. And if he was right about the degradation of Vader’s and Tarkin’s relationship, then the older man would most likely be swayed more easily and would give in faster.

“Do you now? Are you sure of what you are asking for Director?” Said Tarkin slowly, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

Why did the other look like he was enjoying the situation? Was there something Orson wasn’t aware of? Doubt crept into his mind. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. But then he gazed at the man before himself, his defined features, the neck exposed by the shirt’s wide collar, how pale his skin looked against the black armchair. Tarkin was so handsome as his icy eyes shined with hidden intent and sharp intelligence, the thin lips curled in a small smirk. It almost looked like the man was doing it on purpose, seducing Orson. He wanted, oh how Krennic wanted in that moment. He felt himself grow hard as more fantasies entered his mind while he continued to look at the other. Of kissing that pale neck, sucking bruises and marks onto it that would shout to the whole Galaxy that the man was his. Then of Tarkin on his knees as Orson sat in the very same armchair the other occupied right now, sucking him off, his gaze focused on Krennic and no one else. And Orson would give him instructions on how to best please him and encourage the other, threading his fingers through the silver hair. Or of Tarkin on his own desk that the Director saw when he walked in, so perfectly long and wide. He could see in his mind’s eye as he bended the Grand Moff over it, completely covering the other with his body, pinning him to the flat surface. He would whisper to the older man of the things he wanted to do him, all of his dirty fantasies that have plagued him as of late. Orson almost groaned when he remembered some of the sounds Tarkin let out for Vader. He wanted to hear them again, but this time he would be the one to force them out of the usually controlled man.

Krennic licked his lips as he continued to devour the man in front of him with his eyes. He made sure that Tarkin’s icy gaze was locked with his blue eyes, now definitely much darker with obvious arousal.

“Yes.” He said breathlessly, his imagination still going, any rational thought flying out the window.

Krennic, however, was not prepared for what came next.

“Very well then. Get on your knees.”


	3. An Endless Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language.
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> ***
> 
> So sorry for the long wait, I again hope it was worth it and that maybe it isn't what everyone expected. This time a little view into Tarkin's mind~
> 
> I will update the tags later 'cause real life *shrugs*

Wilhuff Tarkin, despite his reputation of always being cold and controlled, was in reality a very emotional creature. His every move, while dictated by logic and high intellect, often was accompanied by strong feelings on the subject matter. Thankfully, only a few were aware of this nature of the Grand Moff.

One of those people was Lord Vader.

Tarkin met Vader, back then Anakin Skywalker, a long time ago. He was still only a Captain who managed to climb ranks very fast. And with the Chancellor’s favor he knew he would soon reach an even more important position. When he was first introduced to Anakin he didn’t think much of him. Another peace loving Jedi, his title of a General meaningless in the eyes of the Order’s preaching and Tarkin’s own military plans. Sure, Anakin was handsome, he would have to be blind not to see that. But Tarkin wasn’t so easily swayed by a pretty face. Obi-Wan also wasn’t someone he wouldn’t mind taking to his bed, nor Skywalker’s fiery apprentice. However, this wasn’t how Wilhuff did things. Far from the rumors that would later follow him in his life, Tarkin wasn’t much for one-night stands and lovers. He learned his lesson not to trust other’s with his body so easily after a few assassination and slander attempts. But that wasn’t truly what stopped Wilhuff from seeking out the pleasures of the flesh. After all, he could be killed and smeared by the public without going to bed with the first whore he found.

No, Wilhuff Tarkin learned a long time ago not to open his heart to anyone.

His façade of an emotionless and merciless man has fooled people, but deep down Wilhuff was just as broken as the majority. Tarkin just learned to hide it better. It was his defense mechanism that he developed very early in life. Or rather, he had to after his heart was broken the first time.

He was young, very young back then. Just becoming a young man, all gangly limbs and raging hormones. Yet, opposite to most his peers, Wilhuff wasn’t one chasing after sex. He found it disgusting at that time, the idea of exchanging bodily fluids with others by kissing and fucking. Of course he knew it could be useful in manipulating others, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of someone he didn’t think much about touching him so intimately with their dirty hands. So Tarkin kept away from other hormones driven teens, instead focusing on creating a network of connections that would help him in later life. He did had the misfortune of having to either find an alternative or give up a good contact when sex came into play, but he knew that this also gave him information on how to later deal with people that weren’t his allies. In his great plan of just ignoring his own body, however, Wilhuff did not take into account one thing that would change him forever.

His heart didn’t give a kirff about what he planned.

Wilhuff fell in love and he fell hard. For a moment, he forgot about his ambitious plans for the future. He was drunk on this new feeling, wanting it to never stop.

Her name was Ver.

She wasn’t anything special, far from it. But there was something about her that pulled Wilhuff in, made his teenage hormones rage and scream, and his heart beat faster. He found it endearing how she didn’t believe that anyone could want her. Couldn’t help but smile like a lovesick fool when she went off about one of her various interests. Even her loud laughter didn’t turn him off. Her passion was something Wilhuff craved, wanted to keep for himself. While his emotions were running around, destroying him from the inside, one stood at the front. Young Wilhuff Tarkin decided that no one and nothing would ever separate him and Ver, that they were meant to be. He became possessive of this creature that broke down his walls so easily. He was glad that Ver wasn’t popular with neither gender. This meant that she would not stray, she would be his, always. He thought this is what love is, this knowledge that the other person belongs to you exclusively and fully, and you to them. That one would let another so close to them…

He remembered his first kiss with Ver. She was crying at that time. Someone once more decided that this strange girl did not fit with the rest of the sheep. She was bruised up from the beating she took. Wilhuff raged, promising retribution to those who hurt what was his. But Ver, precious, soft Ver, begged him not to. So he did the next thing he thought would make her feel better. He kissed her gently, tasting the salty tears on her chapped lips.

It was his first kiss and he would remember it till the day he died. Because despite both of them being inexperienced there was something special about it. That two creatures, both of them so different, could meet and join like this.

They had sex only once. It was an awkward affair, full of tangled limbs and random bursts of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. They both decided it was nice, but they never again felt like doing it. Wilhuff was fine with that. It was like a dream, this strange time he spent with Ver.

Of course all dreams sometimes end and this one did too. Rather abruptly.

He was blinded by his heart and hormones. He didn’t notice the way Ver slowly withdrew herself, how she started to vanish for hours. She no longer felt comfortable touching, the kisses they shared before so often now became non-existent. Wilhuff didn’t think much of it. He understood that sometimes people needed distance, especially people like Ver.

That is, until he saw them.

His, HIS Ver was in the arms of another. Being fucked against a wall in a dark alley. It almost seemed unreal how cartoonish the whole scene looked, like from some bad fiction. He stood rooted to the spot, watching them for a moment. Wilhuff’s brain shut off, the betrayal, the pain making him unable to function. He had a hard time breathing, feeling that he was slowly losing consciousness due to the lack of air. But then his eyes met the blue of Ver’s. So very blue…

He ran.

Wilhuff never saw her after that. Turned out she moved to another planet with her new husband. He did receive letters from her where she probably tried to explain herself. But he couldn’t bear to read them. Tarkin wanted to burn them, but something stopped him. So he just put them away, hidden from view. Just like his emotions. But just like the box with the letters he took with him wherever he went, so he did with his feelings.

Since that day, Wilhuff promised himself never to fall in love again, to never let another so close as to be able to touch him. He would not be weak, made a joke of. He would not share himself with another if his future partner were to cheat on him. And so, Wilhuff Tarkin started climbing ranks, focusing on his plans to forget his broken heart.

Until Anakin Skywalker entered his life and it all went to hell again.

By then Tarkin was much older and experienced. He mastered control over the display of his emotions, even when they were raging a war inside him. But Anakin broke it all down so easily with his cheeky behavior and boldness.

At first Tarkin didn’t think much of him, even disliked the young man. But they were forced to spend more and more time together due to their political and military responsibilities. He started to look forward to their talks, to Anakin’s bad jokes. His laughter was contagious and Wilhuff found himself smiling softly without control over his face. It wasn’t that he was simply interested in the Jedi because of how similar their political opinions were. Far from it, it was something else, something that he missed for so long. It was the passion that lit up in Anakin’s eyes when he spoke, when they discussed something, even when they argued. The Jedi was like a breath of fresh air, an inspiration. Tarkin lost himself in his career, thinking that it was enough to keep him content, to keep him happy. But Anakin proved that there was something missing in his life. Despite not wanting to he thought about Ver. She and Anakin were complete opposites in everything, from their looks to their behavior. But they both shared that one quality that Wilhuff found irresistible. Of course they weren’t the only passionate people that he met in his life, but both of them were so pure in their feelings, so incredibly real… Once more the old flame of want ignited itself in Wilhuff Tarkin. It wasn’t love yet, not like it was with Ver. But it was a strong fondness that turned into need and desire for the other. But Tarkin would not make the same mistake twice. He remembered the pain of the betrayal his heart had to suffer. He would not go through it again.

Again, fate had other plans it seemed.

The younger man was the first one to make a move on the other of course. It was surprising that Anakin, the beautiful, perfect Anakin, would want an older man like Wilhuff. He became more touchy with Tarkin at some point, always finding reasons to brush his body against him, something that he would still be doing as Lord Vader. Anakin often leaned into Tarkin’s ear to tell him something, even if the words did not need to be whispered as if by a lover. And again, despite his iron control, something pulled Tarkin towards the young man as he shivered in delight at Anakin’s warm breath on his skin. Soon they were on first name basis and Wilhuff himself started to answer Anakin’s laughter with his own sarcastic remarks. He watched fascinated the way his younger companion held himself as if he could take on the whole world. He basked in the greatness and potential of this unruly young man. Tarkin felt like he could do anything he wanted with Anakin by his side. It was… exhilarating. But despite the obvious flirting he kept his distance, still certain that this could only end badly for him if he were to give in. Anakin was a… friend. The only one he probably had. And he wasn’t going to lose him like this. He also would not make Anakin a one-night stand.

But Anakin Skywalker clearly set his sights on Wilhuff Tarkin and wasn’t about to give up.

“Can I kiss you Wilhuff?” Anakin asked one day when they were both simply enjoying a walk in the sun.

Tarkin almost stumbled over his own feet at the seemingly innocent request. He looked around spooked, as if looking for someone who could have overheard his companion’s words. But they were alone by a lake’s side, only birds chirping in the morning air. Tarkin lost his carefully crafted cool. He wasn’t ready for such question, he didn’t expect Anakin to be this bold. Or maybe he did but he was simply living in denial, hoping the young man would soon find another object of affection and forget him. It would have been better for them both, but of course the Jedi had to do the complete opposite of what was rational and pursed Wilhuff. And if Tarkin said he wasn’t flattered by it he would be lying.

He looked at Anakin, searching in his eyes and face for any kind of deception. But of course there was no one, the young man was too honest with his feelings, too open. Something that Wilhuff still needed to teach him and work with the boy on.

“Why?” He asked, his voice sounding much too weak for his liking.

Why indeed? He wanted to say “no.” Tarkin didn’t want so start something that he knew had no right to be, especially with their current positions. Not to mention the future of their careers, well, mostly Tarkin’s. But then he also wanted to whisper “yes” in a breathless tone, the need he felt strong, clouding his judgement. Anakin was gazing at him, at his lips so openly, without any shame. So he said the only other thing that came to his troubled mind which was the whispered “why?”

“What a silly question for someone your age Wilhuff.” Answered Anakin instead, not really giving him an answer.

How handsome he looked with his boyish, confident smirk, his body bathed in the soft, morning light. The lake behind him glittered pleasantly, the grass around it green and fresh. There were flowers of different kinds and colors growing around with no restrain of the human hand. Birds were chirping a lovely song. It all felt like a hazy dream. Maybe he was indeed asleep, the Anakin in front of him nothing but a mirage created by his own mind.

Maybe…. Maybe for once he could let go of his iron rules.

He stepped closer to the younger man, unsure. What was he doing to him, breaking down his walls so easily. Just like her… Wilhuff watched Anakin still smirking at him, his eyes full of amusement. But they also were filled with want and it was all directed at Tarkin. Wilhuff wet his lips, one of his hands moving to mess with his hair, a nervous habit of his.

“I’m not sure-” He started slowly.

But Anakin was faster. He grabbed Tarkin’s free hand and pulled the man to himself. Wilhuff slammed into a hard chest and looked at the taller man with clear surprise. Bold. So unpredictably bold, a very dangerous trait to have. He opened his mouth to protest against such manhandling, but his brain stopped working.

There were soft lips on his.

Oh.

He hasn’t kissed anyone since Ver. It’s been so long he almost forgot how pleasant it could be. And Anakin’s lips were very pleasant indeed. They were soft, and wide, and plush, and just perfectly moist. They were also very demanding and they devoured Tarkin’s thin lips greedily. He thought he heard Anakin groan in pleasure, but he was still so lost in the feeling of the kiss that he wasn’t sure. He felt himself being lulled in by the pleasure. His own lips started to respond shyly, mashing with the young man’s. Wilhuff felt content and he moaned softly, feeling Anakin’s hand letting go off his. Strong arms moved to a narrow waist, circling it and pulling him closer to the warm body in front of him. Tarkin was shorter than the young Jedi so he head to crane up his head a little to continue kissing the other comfortably. When he started to return the kiss with more force, he felt the arms tighten around him, one moving to his back to keep him in place. This time he was sure he heard Anakin groan in pleasure, kriff, he felt the vibrations against his own lips. He felt shivers racing up his spine as Anakin’s fingers caressed his back. Wilhuff didn’t even notice when he closed his eyes, too lost in what was taking place. But he definitely got his mind back when he felt a demanding tongue trying to sneak into his mouth.

Tarkin rather aggressively broke the contact between them, pushing Anakin away with more force than necessary. The younger man was too surprised at the change of atmosphere that he let go without any resistance, falling onto the fresh grass with a yelp. Wilhuff felt that his cheeks were aflame from the still raging desire the kiss awakened in him. His breathing was labored as if he just run a few miles. But his eyes were clear and blazing. Tarkin gazed at the surprised Anakin who was still trying to get his bearings. He was still so painfully handsome, even in his confusion, especially with those round cheeks red and his eyes wide, focused only on him.

“No. Not like this.” Said Wilhuff, more to himself really.

Then he turned sharply and with a quick step left the area, despite Anakin’s calls of his name.

 

***

 

Anakin Skywalker was not one who gave up easily as Wilhuff was to find out once more.

After the kiss he tried to keep his distance. Tarkin had to admit, he was shaken and for once hiding his emotions became a problem. He would make sure to avoid Anakin if he could. It wasn’t that hard with how often the Jedi was called away on missions. Still, the moment the younger man was back he seeked out Wilhuff. He wasn’t even subtle about it, asking anyone he met if they have seen Admiral Tarkin. Yes, he has risen in ranks from Captain and proudly wore his new title. But right now it meant more people recognized him and that meant Anakin’s task of finding Wilhuff was much easier.

He wasn’t a coward, far from it. He simply didn’t know how to deal with Anakin and his own feelings. Tarkin was too conflicted on the matter. On the one hand, he promised himself to never let anyone close again. Anakin was young and Wilhuff didn’t want to be just a passing fancy of his. Worse, if he fell for the other, the pain would be unbearable in a case of betrayal. The last time was a disaster, he wouldn’t leave his room for days after seeing Ver in that alley, he was catatonic, his brilliant mind blank from grief. Wilhuff shuddered just remembering the state he was in. Never again.

But then there was this strong pull he felt towards Anakin. He really wanted to let the other closer. They were compatible, even with their differences they still… clicked, as cliché as it sounded. If he were superstitious, he would say that it was as if the mysterious Force that Anakin always pattered about was at play here. That they were just meant to exist together. But then Tarkin wasn’t a young man who believed in children’s stories. Not for a long time now at least.

“Wilhuff, I finally found you!” Came the young Jedi’s relieved voice.

Tarkin sighed in tiredness. So maybe he was hiding from the other behind work. But since Anakin found him, there was no way but to face the problem.

“Anakin… We need to talk.” He said slowly, accenting his words.

The other must have sensed the seriousness of the situation, because the smile vanished from his face to be replaced by a frown. Anakin for once looked uncertain. His eyes shined a little in that strange way that only the eyes of Force users ever did. Tarkin almost shivered. Those eyes looked so dark, the blue such a different shade from Wilhuff’s own more grey gaze. It was like looking into a  river, for times crystal and clear, others wild, dark, and untamed. Anakin’s eyes were that of an element disturbed by the night storm, glittering and dangerous. It was similar to how the young man himself behaved, he was so easy to provoke, his emotions unstable. That was something he needed to work on if he wanted to get somewhere in life.

He was so different from her…

“Who is Ver?”

Tarkin looked startled at the other. He didn’t realize he drifted off in his thoughts.

“What?” He choked out.

Only Anakin could surprise him like this.

“Ver… Your thoughts, they keep circling around her, always coming back to her. I noticed you doing that a few months back, but this is the first time I hear you comparing us. The image inside your mind is blurred, as if from a long time ago… Who is she? Your sister? She looks about your age in your memories. But then the thoughts they… You lost her somehow, didn’t you Wilhuff? You loved her.”

Anakin’s tone was soft as if he knew he was threading on dangerous grounds. His voice also had a note of understanding, a painful sound of grief. As if he himself knew what Tarkin was going through.

But he couldn’t, no one could know what he went through. His mind shut down for a moment. With blank eyes he looked at the young man before him. So beautiful, so powerful, with such potential at his fingertips. He wanted to bask in everything that Anakin Skywalker was, the passion that Tarkin felt he has lost as of late. It was such pure, overwhelming desire, he didn’t understand how it was possible to feel so strongly after so long of just shutting off. Wilhuff was hurting, but in a good way. He didn’t know yet if he liked the feeling or not. And if he had to be honest, the kiss ignited something else in him, something he thought he would never feel again.

Lust.

And it was that lust that for once clouded his mind and directed his next actions that would change his relationship with Anakin Skywalker forever.

“You want me, do you not, _Anakin_?” He said slowly, caressing the name with his tongue.

He watched in satisfaction as the younger man’s eyes darkened in arousal at the way Wilhuff said his name, how his breath picked up. Oh, how honest he was in his reactions, how open. It was so refreshing when Tarkin was always surrounded by lies and deceit. This is why he would never allow anyone else as close as he let Anakin. He could read him so easily after all.

He could control him.

Anakin nodded, not saying a word, his gaze focused intently on Wilhuff and nothing else.

“Well then… Get on your knees.”

 

***

 

Of course Anakin was too proud to do it at first, even if it was painfully obvious that he wanted to just take Tarkin against the wall whenever he saw him. It was a test that he failed to pass, a test to see if he was ready for the way their relationship would look.

Whispers started to circle around, about the cold Admiral and his lovesick shadow in the form of Anakin Skywalker. Wilhuff heard those of course, but he didn’t pay them much attention. Jedi were not allowed to form attachments and thankfully, people believed that they followed this rule obediently. How foolish of them. Tarkin himself knew at least a few Jedi that broke that order far too easily. Still, he could feel Kenobi’s gaze on him whenever he was around to speak with his student, glaring at Wilhuff with mistrust. But he wasn’t worried about the man either. Anakin kept him too busy with the way he always got in trouble, he didn’t have time to investigate rumors about something that seemed almost impossible with Tarkin’s reputation of hating any form of physical contact. How could someone like that allow another close enough to become lovers? So Wilhuff wasn’t too bothered about the buzzing of bored politicians and soldiers.

Anakin broke after a few weeks, walking silently into Tarkin’s personal quarters and falling before him on his knees, begging with his eye to let him have that which he craved. He was clearly impatient, but pride still held him back from what he wanted to take before. Anakin did not care for the silly rules of the Jedi Order as it was proven to Wilhuff again and again. Anakin wanted Tarkin, he wanted to be with the older man, as bizarre as it sounded. Wilhuff did not understand why, but who was he to complain in the end. But that didn’t mean he would give in that easily, even if he decided to do just that, his blood pumping faster at the thought alone.

There were rules to follow. First, it would be Tarkin who would decide how their relationship would look and progress. Anakin would have to be content with how much the other would be willing to give him and nothing more. The younger man was to obey Wilhuff or he could forget about getting his hands on him ever again.

The subject of Ver was forbidden, they would not speak about her.

Which led to another rule. Anakin had to swear that he would never use the Force to read Wilhuff’s mind, or use it in any other way against him. That one turned out to be the easiest to follow for the younger man for some strange reason. Tarkin knew Anakin was prone to not being able to control his enormous powers sometimes in combination with his strong emotions, so his restrain around Wilhuff spoke a lot about his dedication to their relationship.

The last important rule was that they belonged to each other and no one else. There would be no cheating, because otherwise there would be hell to pay. On both sides.

Once those basic rules were established, and some less important ones in between, their actual romantic relationship began.

Anakin, being in his prime, was insatiable. He would appear at any moment, demanding to be given his fix of the older man. Tarkin still had no idea how it ended with him being the one on the receiving end during sex, but he wasn’t complaining. He actually enjoyed the way the younger man craved him, how he couldn’t go a second without somehow touching him, how attentive he was, drinking in his own and Wilhuff’s pleasure. Also, being older meant he didn’t have as much strength as his lover, so letting him do all the work actually was a pleasant experience. This didn’t mean he wasn’t in control, far from it. One breath, a whisper, even a look, and Anakin was doing anything Tarkin demanded. He was getting drunk on how much power he had over the other, the lust his body felt clouding his mind in a red hue. What they both lacked in experience they made up with enthusiasm and Anakin’s endless stamina.

But their relationship wasn’t only based on carnal pleasure. Sometimes it was long talks, soft, languid kisses, sitting together in silence. It was endless walks just enjoying each other’s company.

It was also dealing with their different approaches and opinions. There was clashes, angry, passionate fire of Anakin’s emotions and the glacier cold of Tarkin’s fury. It was almost breaking things off, only to end up frantically kissing once feelings of two raging storms calmed down, replaced by an inferno of an overwhelming desire.

The strangest thing was that it wasn’t Tarkin who was jealous over all those people ogling his younger lover, clearly wishing to bed the young Jedi. No, Wilhuff was feeling very secure about their relationship, because it was Anakin instead the turned out to be ferociously possessive of him. If just a word, a whisper reached his ears of anyone having their eyes on the Admiral, or he saw someone looking at Tarkin just a smidge too long, he would usually blow up, throwing accusations left and right. He tried to monopolize the other’s time, making sure that he was always with Wilhuff so he could “protect” him from any unsavory characters that would just love to take what he deemed as his. Tarkin found it almost adorable in the way one finds a pup who doesn’t want to give up its favorite toy. The difference was that this pup could easily kill anyone with a wave of his hand or his lightsaber, and Tarkin was far from being just a toy.

At that time he believed that he was Anakin’s world and Anakin was his.

He thought it was love, so different yet so similar to the one he had for Ver long ago, so consuming.

How wrong he was.

 

***

 

Anakin’s eye burned with a sickly golden color. It was fascinating to Wilhuff to see this visible change in the other when he finally became a Sith Lord. Still nameless, but he knew his lover wouldn’t be for long. Although he had to admit he missed Anakin’s soft, blue gaze. But something worried him. Since his transformation and fall to the Dark Side Anakin has been… different. Of course he expected him to become darker in his behavior, more reckless, no longer having to care about the obligations put upon him by the Jedi Order, pretending to be something he truly wasn’t. There was no one to stop him, not with Palpatine pulling the strings everywhere. And if their plans worked, he would soon become the Emperor of the new and glorious Galactic Empire, assuring a place by his side for both Anakin and Wilhuff.

Anakin became much more violent, his emotional outbursts now happening more and more often. Thankfully, Tarkin wasn’t a target of those. At least not at first.

Until that one time.

He had no idea where Anakin heard the rumors that he was involved with one of the Senators. At least that was the reason he was given after what took place next. All he knew was the oppressive feeling of his lover’s powers as he stormed into Tarkin’s rooms, fury written across his face. His golden gaze was blazing, a touch of madness visible in it.

It should have been Tarkin’s first cue that something bad was about to happen.

He didn’t even have time to think as he was thrown against the wall with a Force push. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, but found Anakin’s hand on his throat, squeezing it tightly before he could do anything. His eyes widened in shock. Since they began their relationship Anakin has never broken the rules they established at the beginning. Wilhuff couldn’t even get out any words, his desperate hands flying to catch Anakin’s strong grip on his frail neck, trying to ease the pressure. He felt the other’s breath on his lips and only then he noticed that the younger man was leaning in.

The first contact of their lips was bruising and demanding. Teeth bit sharply into Tarkin’s lower lip, blood spilling between them. Anakin drank it greedily, his tongue aggressively mapping out Wilhuff’s mouth as he groaned in dark pleasure. Tarkin himself whimpered at the pain and lack of air, feeling his vision slowly going hazy, his eyelids dropping as his consciousness started to leave him. Thankfully, Anakin finally seemed to be sated for the moment, the beast inside him calmed down for now. The pressure on his neck lessened letting him breath as the other’s mouth let go of his. Tarkin took in deep breaths of air, feeling that he was no longer held against the wall by the other’s powers. He coughed, feeling the bruises forming on his neck and the pain in his throat from the abuse. Through tear filled eyes he saw Anakin’s look of fury become replaced by a twisted fondness. A gently hand cupped his face, holding it in place and forcing their eyes to meet.

“I was right. You would never betray me like they all did, would you Wilhuff?” Asked Anakin softly with a smile.

Tarkin was speechless, both from what just happened and the rawness of his throat. He had no idea what to say to his lover after this violent display. What had tipped the young man off? There was something else besides Anakin having clearly been cross with Wilhuff. Never before has he used violence against him. Tarkin had iron control over his lover, or at least he thought so.

“Wh-what?” He rasped out painfully.

Anakin only smiled wider, his golden eyes warm. He suddenly enveloped Tarkin in his strong arms, hugging him tightly to himself. There was no space between them and Wilhuff could feel every breath and small movement of the other. Usually he would take comfort in this kind of embrace but now it felt wrong, suffocating. Anakin put his face between the older man’s shoulder and neck, his lips touching the skin above the coral with his lips. Tarkin shivered as he felt the younger man inhale his scent, murmuring in appreciation. He was clearly more calm now, the Sith’s body going from tense to relaxed the more he held his lover.

“You had no idea my One. I should have never doubted you, after all, my Master also doesn’t doubt your loyalty to our cause. My dearest Wilhuff… Your mind is so wonderfully familiar. It feels like home.” Mouthed Anakin against him, his lips moist on Tarkin’s skin.

Wilhuff felt a cold spread through his body. But it was not fear. It was anger, a fury he hasn’t often felt.

“You read my mind.” Came his accusing, yet calm words.

His tone was chilling and any other person would have covered before him, but not Anakin, not in the state he was in. The storm inside Tarkin grew in intensity, threatening to spill outside. His eyes were two icicles that looked forward with a scaring intensity that Anakin couldn’t see, but it would probably have given him a moment to rethink his next actions if he did.

“Forgive me, but I needed to know if it was true that you were sleeping around behind my back. I had to make sure after… after they betrayed me. But it’s alright now.” Spoke Anakin calmly, slowly moving away to look at the other.

The surprise in his face when he saw the anger on Tarkin’s face was so honest, Wilhuff wanted to laugh and cry. What happened to his brilliant, passionate Anakin?

“Wilhuff, it’s alright. I know I promised not to read your mind but I had no choice.” Continued Anakin, trying to placate a clearly fuming Tarkin.

He moved his own, full lips towards Tarkin’s thin ones that were pulled into a tight, tense line. Anakin’s warm breath ghosted over them, but while usually it would inspire excitement, this time Wilhuff stood unflinchingly. The Sith brought their lower parts closer, rubbing himself against the older man. Tarkin could feel that Anakin was already half hard and felt broad hands moving to his pants, reaching to unfasten them, the feel of warm fingers against the skin of his hip where his shirt rode up almost shocking against his still cold body.

“Please Wilhuff, let me have you. I need to make sure that you are only mine. Please, I love you.” Whined Anakin with his lips against Tarkin’s, brushing them with every word.

But Tarkin did not respond, not the way Anakin probably expected.

“Get out.” Came the clipped words, shimmering with anger.

It was as if everything in the room stopped. The Sith froze against him, then sharply moved back a little and looked at his lover in shock.

“What?” He questioned in disbelief.

But Tarkin actually growled for the first time since they met. He was feeling too much, too fast. It was all spilling out, he couldn’t control it anymore. With unusual strength he pushed the younger man away from himself. He looked at Anakin, eyes ablaze, with his clothing in disarray from the Sith’s fumbling. A snarl took over his face which only made the other’s gaze widen in shock. Tarkin did not act like Anakin, he kept it all inside. But not this time.

“Get out. This is over.” He said, his voice still raspy from the previous choking.

Anakin stood still, frozen. His eyes flashed between golden and blue, looking both vulnerable and angered.

“What are you talking about Wilhuff? I know I might have been a little out of line, but I needed to make sure, you understand, right? I love you Wilhuff, please, what’s wrong?” Prodded Anakin.

Tarkin saw red and he exploded.

“Love?! You have no idea what love is you foolish boy!” Screamed the older man, his fists clenched in anger.

The eyes looking at him settled into a sickly yellow hue. They glowed in fury, Anakin’s unstable emotions responding to Tarkin’s own.

“I don’t know what love is?! And you whose only other romantic experience was with a girl who left you for another? Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know what it is since you have been clinging to her memory for so long, not letting anyone else in?!” Shouted back the younger man.

Tarkin gasped at the others audacity.

“You would dare… Get out! I will not deal with this childish behavior of yours any longer! You just basically broke all the rules we have established. If this is your idea of love then I do not want anything to do with it or you ever again. You knew the consequences of going against me.” Spoke the Admiral harshly, breathing hard.

The words seemed to have cut right into Anakin because he suddenly deflated, looking unsure. Truly, his mood swings were so unpredictable, sometimes it was tiring. Wilhuff could never keep up with them.

“What… No, Wilhuff. I’m sorry, please. You can’t leave me. You are supposed to be mine.” Pleaded Anakin.

His tone turned desperate now, the previous anger gone as fast as it came. Anakin slowly started to move towards Tarkin but the older man was faster. He reached for the blaster on the table next to him and pointed it at the Sith. Anakin stopped in shock, hurt and betrayal so raw on his face. Wilhuff felt a pull, a strong desire to comfort the younger man. But he stopped himself. Not this time. This time Anakin went too far. He would not allow anyone to hurt him like this.

“I said get out Skywalker.” Hissed out Tarkin.

For a moment he thought the Sith would again start to scream in anger. That he would even use the Force on him. But surprisingly, he saw tears starting to stream down Anakin’s face, his lips trembling. He really resembled a little boy now, with his soft hair falling around his pretty face in waves, his plump lips wet from the saliva and blood from their previous kiss, his eyes wide and full of deep sadness.

Maybe he overdid it, maybe he should let Anakin explain himself, maybe…

“You will regret this Wilhuff. I will have that which is mine. That is the way of the Sith.”

With those chilling words, Anakin’s face took on a dark, menacing look, despite the tears still falling from his eyes. Without another word, the younger man turned sharply his back on Wilhuff, his cloak billowing around his frame as he left the room.

It was only when the doors closed that Wilhuff felt all that happened hit him hard. He swayed, feeling dizzy. The Admiral almost fell on the floor on his knees and hands, feeling nauseous. Tarkin gazed at the dark floor of his rooms, trying to calm down, his heart, his mind, his body. His felt shaken to the very core. It was happening again, once more he let himself get attached, only to find that he meant nothing to the other person in the end.

No, he had to be strong. He knew what he was getting into. He would not…

He noticed that the floor below him was wet with small puddles.

He was crying.

 

***

 

Anakin was dead.

Kenobi, despite their dislike of each other, came to inform him personally. Maybe he felt sorry for the older man. Tarkin sneered in his mind. The Jedi Master was too soft for his own good.

Of course he took the news badly. The last time he saw Anakin was during that disastrous evening when he ended their relationship. He took a health leave for a week. Tarkin knew rumors would start soon, but he just needed time to himself.

He mourned his young lover. Wilhuff hated himself that he broke things off between them. So many times after their argument he thought of mending things with Anakin. The pull to the younger man was so strong. He loved him and this time he didn’t want to let go like he did years ago. But then Anakin’s chilling last words rang in his mind and some kind of stubborn pride stopped him from doing what his heart wanted. And it wanted the young Sith.

But now he was gone and Wilhuff could only cry and get drunk to numb the pain of his loss and being too slow in making up his mind, losing the opportunity to be with the one he yearned for, that he loved.

When he was introduced to Lord Vader he looked at the giant, black-armor clad man with indifference. But there was also a feeling of discontent and slight anger. That Palpatine would replace beautiful, powerful Anakin, HIS Anakin, with this monstrous being… But he had no say in this.

He was the Grand Moff of the Galactic Empire now. He no longer cared much for relationships of any kind, his only goal to serve his ruler. It was as if his feelings died with his lover. Not that he couldn’t feel anything, far from it, but he simply never again felt that strong pull that he felt with Ver and Anakin. He knew he was going to be alone for the rest of his life and accepted it. So he decided to do the next best thing. He was going to prove to everyone how dangerous and accomplished he was so no one again would ever try of thinking to try and hurt him in any way.

No more.

 

***

 

Lord Vader behaved strangely around him. He noticed that after working with the Sith for a few months. While with others Vader seemed to be keeping his distance, he appeared to enjoy standing in close proximity with Wilhuff. When he spoke with anyone else but Tarkin he spoke to terrify and show his superiority as a Force user. But with Wilhuff he acted almost as if they were old friends. His voice was calm with him, and Tarkin could almost swear it felt longing and fond in its tone. Then there were the situations where Vader would inquire about Wilhuff’s day and well-being, a bizarre thing to do when you didn’t have a close relationship with someone. But he did it every day. He also took to walking with Tarkin when he was making rounds, checking on everything under his care. Vader didn’t speak a word then, but still his overwhelming presence was enough of a reminder that the man was like a huge dog walking by Tarkin’s side, scaring anyone is sight.

Then after some time Wilhuff started to notice even stranger things which made him wonder about exactly who Lord Vader truly was. For some unknown reason the Sith detested when Tarkin paid too much attention to any of the Officers. He would cut his talks with others short, basically growling in displeasure. He also started to get rather touchy with the Grand Moff, brushing his warm body against Tarkin’s cold one as often as he could, catching his arm in his large hand when they were speaking, leaning in too close for comfort when they spoke in private, warm air brushing against Wilhuff’s face. He was also the only one Vader seemed to listen to and obey, anyone else usually ended up with a Force choke.

Vader seemed so unnaturally focused on Tarkin. They didn’t know each other before the Emperor introduced them, so this behavior of familiarity was making Wilhuff feel uneasy. What was the Sith playing at?

It all came to him when he was sitting in his rooms and a call came on his con. He sighed tiredly. The end of his shift was close, only minutes away. He was irritated that someone would bother him right before it. His eyes however glinted when he saw who was calling him.

“Yes Lord Vader? How may I help you?” He asked pleasantly, looking at the hologram of the Sith’s bust.

“Grand Moff, I was wondering if you still have any contact with the Senator from Kamino. I wish to speak with her about an important matter.”

Still…? Tarkin never mentioned to Vader that he knew…

It was in that moment that everything clicked in Tarkin’s sharp mind. He looked at the hologram with wide eyes, not able to hide his shock.

“Anakin?!”

 

***

 

It was much easier to work with Lord Vader than Anakin Skywalker.

Vader was calmer than Anakin, even if he did throw temper tantrums from time to time or choked someone for simply disagreeing with him. While Wilhuff found the behavior childish and irritating, he had to admit he felt a swell of pleasure when Vader attacked anyone like a trained dog who so much as looked at Tarkin the wrong way.

Together they were a force to be reckoned with.

It was also much easier to be in a relationship with the man.

After whatever happened to Anakin, who still did not wish to speak of the incident so Wilhuff didn’t press him, he seemed to have matured by years. The experience must have been truly traumatic. Not only from an emotional point, but also physical. Vader explained that the damage done to his body was so extensive that he needed the dark suit to survive, that even the Emperor’s Sith powers could not heal him.

Wilhuff did not mind that he could no longer see the Anakin he fell in love with so long ago and instead he now had Vader’s darkness take his place. Maybe it was for the better. This way he did not have much trouble forgetting about his lover’s past actions. It was like being with someone familiar, yet completely different. The treacherous voice in the back of his mind reminded him of his behavior when he thought he lost the younger man forever, but he squashed it immediately. Even if this was his reason for forgiving Vader, he did not care anymore. He had Anakin back and that was all that mattered.

Of course their relationship was different now, more mature. It took them time but they soon became so in sync with each other that they often did not even need words to communicate. The pull Tarkin felt in the past towards the other only strengthened and Vader seemed to be even more possessive of him.

“You are the only thing I have left. You are mine and I take care of what is mine.”

The words assured Tarkin that not only would his lover remain loyal, but that he would also respect the boundaries the Grand Moff set years ago. Vader was ready to do anything for him.

Their sex life also had to change due to the Sith’s new limitations. Fortunately, the Emperor wasn’t cruel and made sure his apprentice could still feel pleasure like any other man. Vader’s cock was now mostly metal. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was a technological marvel. The Sith was as receptive as he was when he still had all his body parts, begging so nicely when Tarkin sucked him slowly, drawing out his torture. He could also come, and come a lot he did as Wilhuff found out when he felt himself become uncomfortably full the first time Vader fucked him after their reunion.

Surprisingly, Anakin did not lose his hunger for the older man, nor his stamina. Tarkin was almost jealous. At his age, even if he was keeping himself in good shape, he sometimes could not keep up with the other’s demanding needs. Still, every time he wanted to refuse Vader he got flashes of the time he was grieving the supposedly dead man and a rush of pain would cause him to give in.

Anakin made him an emotional mess.

The only downside was Vader’s lack of mouth. Wilhuff wanted to kiss him so badly sometimes and he knew the other felt the same. He also missed Anakin’s pretty lips wrapped around him, how his eyes would shine wickedly as Tarkin lost himself in pleasure and gripped tightly at the soft, brown hair. That didn’t meant they weren’t able to work around this problem. There were ways…

And so their relationship flourished as did the Empire.

All was going well, even when Orson Krennic waltzed into their lives with his ridiculous cape and those impossibly blue eyes of his. The man was so predictable in his behavior, Tarkin found it amusing to rile him up, something he never indulged in before. For some reason he wanted to see Krennic fall from the pedestal he put himself on. If he was also slightly jealous of the attention the man was paying to his lover and how his uniform was clearly supposed to imitate Vader’s, who could blame him. The man was a pest, but he was younger than him and Wilhuff might have felt slightly insecure about the situation, after all, he was well past his prime. Thankfully Vader made sure to remind him that he only had eyes for the Grand Moff after taking him repeatedly in Tarkin’s quarters. Walking after that day was a chore, but the ache in his body was a pleasant reminder of his silent victory over Krennic. He made sure to be especially nasty to the other man that day, something everyone noticed but ignored. Everyone was used to the feud between him and the Director at this point.

He thought that now nothing would crush him. He had his lover, was the third most important person in the Empire, and soon, thanks to Krennic, he would have a weapon to destroy whole planets, crushing the Rebellion once and for all.

This all changed after the message he received from the Emperor.


	4. Broken Things Can Be Built Anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language. 
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> ***
> 
> WARNING: This chapter has some creepy, non-con touching, tho not explicit. Also the subject discussed might creep some people out. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

“I want you. Tonight.”

Tarkin looked at the Sith in thought.

“Do you now? And have you earned the right to have me _Sithling_?” He questioned in a sly voice.

Vader seemed tense. His breathing picked up, the sound loud in the room. The Sith moved as if to step closer to the Grand Moff, but then stopped himself and kept standing still. His fists were clenched in obvious displeasure. For a few seconds they didn’t say anything, Vader’s blank stare boring into Tarkin. He could feel the intensity of those golden eyes he knew hid behind the dark helmet. He didn’t miss looking into them. His Anakin had blue eyes, the gold of the Sith belonged to the man who accused him of betrayal and then broke all the boundaries. Those were the eyes of what broke them apart first, what brought about nothing but pain for Wilhuff. So no, he didn’t want to see them. If he couldn’t have Anakin’s blue looking at him lovingly then he was fine with the blank stare of the dark, crimson visors of Vader’s.

With soft steps he approached the Sith, stopping right before him. He was so close that if the other just lifted his arms then he would be able to touch Wilhuff. Tarkin smiled as despite the proximity his lover kept his hands to himself.

“Well?” He prompted, still awaiting his answer.

Vader grumbled something lowly. Tarkin didn’t understand the gibberish, but he sure could feel the emotions behind it. Despite all those years together Anakin still had trouble to let go off his pride sometimes. But Wilhuff knew that deep down the man before him craved that which Tarkin offered, this total surrender to another, not having to think for once and just do as ordered. So he waited patiently for the little display of rebellion to pass.

He smirked, feeling in a mood to tease his lover. Tarkin lifted his own arms and reached to lace his hands behind Vader’s neck, holding himself against the other, but still not touching him with the rest of his body. Vader cursed softly and Wilhuff’s smirk only grew wider. Someone was really full of pent up frustration today it seemed.

“I am still waiting Sithling. Come on my dear, don’t you want this?” He whispered, his face moving closer to Vader’s mask.

He stared at Vader with his eyes half-lidded, smiling seductively. For some unknown reason he was in a really good mood and was acting more playful than he would usually let himself. Tarkin didn’t know why, but he didn’t question the change. It felt nice to let go off his own control and emotions a little once in a while. Especially when his lover reacted so deliciously.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?” He continued.

His warm breath fogged up Vader’s mouthpiece a little with how close his lips were to it. Silently Wilhuff once again lamented Anakin’s current lack of mouth. But he knew exactly what to do instead to finally break and provoke his younger lover. Without a warning, Tarkin leaned in ever closer, planting his lips softly on the mouthpiece. He closed his eyes, the kiss of metal cold against his mouth, but also strangely exciting. Wilhuff let his lips linger for a moment. He knew that this would be what would finally break his lover’s pride and control. With a wet sound, he moved back, his lips slightly bruised from the metal, from how hard he actually smacked them against it, a shade darker than before. His grey eyes opened as he felt Vader tremble against him and his smiled softly when he heard the following whine of need.

Anakin, so predictable sometimes.

The moment Wilhuff let go off the bigger man with his hands he saw the dark form fold itself and Vader fell to his knees before him. Tarkin looked down at the other pleased. He watched in satisfaction as his lover moved closer to him, encircling his waist with his arms and pulling his lower parts flush against Vader, the helmeted head bowed down and snuggled against his stomach.

“Please, Wilhuff, my love, my One. Please.” Begged the Sith Lord.

Tarkin hummed in pleasure and felt himself become excited.

“You beg so prettily, darling. Tell me, what it is you are asking for?” He said softly, his tone breathless.

Wilhuff reached out and gently caressed the helmeted head. He felt a power rush course through him as it always did when he had Vader acting like this. Not for some other man or woman, not for someone younger and more beautiful, but for him, for Wilhuff Tarkin. Anakin still only had eyes for him after all those years, after the pain they went through together, their separation. It was such a good feeling, he loved this specific warmth that spread through his whole body, warming it up.

“Let me take you tonight. Let me spread you with my fingers, let me tease you until you are nothing but a breathless, begging mess. Let me claim you, fill you up until you are full only of me. Let me do it again and again so I’m certain that I am craved into you as deeply as can be. Let me show you how much I need you, cherish you, love you… Please, my One, don’t torture me so.”

Tarkin groaned out softly at the words. His imagination ran wild and he felt his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. If the pleased, deep murmur he heard was anything to go by, Anakin was aware of what his words were doing to Wilhuff. Tarkin gazed at his lover proudly. He knew exactly how to please him and get him going. Wilhuff smirked as he used his hands to lift Vader’s head up so he could gaze up at him and see the wicked gleam in the icy eyes.

“Why wait till tonight?” Whispered the Grand Moff.

He almost laughed at how fast Vader had him against the floor of his office.

Still the same Anakin.

 

***

 

Tarkin looked at himself in his bathroom’s full-length body mirror. He was only in his underwear after he took a shower, the black material contrasting against his pale skin like the armor of a certain Sith. Wilhuff touched, almost reverently, the hand-shaped bruises on his hips from where Vader held onto them as he fucked Tarkin with powerful thrusts for the third time that day. They were already turning purple and hurt a little when Wilhuff put pressure on them, making him hiss out at the pain. But it was a good kind of pain. It was proof of Anakin’s love and devotion. The soreness he felt also was a part of that love and even if he grimaced every time he took a step, deep down he was glad and proud that he was the one Vader chose.

But then, the more he gazed at the marks on his body, the more his thoughts started to cloud with worry. His lover as of late started to remind him a little too much of the young Sith Anakin who took whatever he wanted without thinking, who was suspicious of everyone around him, the Anakin who hurt Tarkin over some imaginary offense. Vader’s possessive side wasn’t a problem for Wilhuff until lately. Anakin was reverting back, was losing it again. Tarkin didn’t know why it was happening now. He had his theories of course, Palpatine went through such periods of violent madness himself from time to time, so this could be linked to the men’s Sith powers. Could it be they were somehow messing with Vader’s thoughts and emotions?

Tarkin bit his lip in thought, slowly starting to dress in his nightwear. He would not have noticed it, the increase in Vader’s violence and possessiveness, if it wasn’t for one incident.

Grand Admiral Thrawn was visiting _Executrix_ to discuss some plans with Tarkin in person. He and the Chiss have always been on rather good terms. They respected each other and they enjoyed being able to talk to someone with the same level of intelligence as them. Wilhuff, despite every instinct, trusted Thrawn not to betray him, or the Empire for that matter. The other seemed to be content on playing mind games with the Rebels, enjoying crushing them when they least expected it. Tarkin admired how the Chiss could use even the most insignificant detail to his advantage. They worked well together, although Wilhuff wouldn’t call them friends. They simply had a healthy work relationship based on mutual respect. At least that is how Tarkin saw it, he didn’t know what Thrawn thought of him really. The Chiss was unpredictable sometimes.

When Thrawn arrived on Tarkin’s ship, he smiled seeing the Grand Moff, his red gaze glowing. In the past Wilhuff found the strangeness of those eyes unsettling, more so than the blue skin, but now he was used to it. He only raised an inquisitive eyebrow when he noticed the strange looking lizard-like creature around the Grand Admiral’s shoulders, but didn’t ask questions yet. He didn’t take the Chiss for a pet person.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn, welcome aboard the _Executrix_. It is a pleasure to see you again.” Spoke Tarkin calmly, smiling slightly at the other man.

Thrawn answered with his own lips curling up at the corners. He walked closer to the Grand Moff and bowed his head slightly in greeting, his hands behind his back.

“Grand Moff Tarkin, I assure you, the pleasure is mine. Shall we?” Asked the other man in that strange purr of his.

The deep, soothing tones of the Chiss might have fooled others into thinking that Thrawn would be easy to defeat, that he was weak. But Tarkin knew better. He knew that behind the red gleam hid a sharp intelligence and a brilliant war strategist. Wilhuff also knew that under the white uniform, besides the blue skin, hid trained muscles that could easily overpower even the strongest in the Empire. So Tarkin always threaded cautiously around Thrawn, even if he did trust him, which was why this time he decided to bring Vader with him to their meeting.

If he was slightly showing off that he could control the Sith so easily, a Force user that Thrawn wasn’t a big fan of, then who was to blame him? He wanted to flaunt his power, to make sure everyone knew who was at the top of the Empire’s food chain. Of course as long as no one realized that he and the Sith were involved. That would be a huge disaster Tarkin wished to avoid. If it got out that he was with Vader…

He would be ridiculed, rumors would start immediately. Tarkin would face the judgment of his whole career. After all, since he was involved with Vader on such intimate level, who could say that he didn’t simply sleep his way to the top? Tarkin knew he would lose all the respect he gained over the years. All his achievements would be put under scrutiny and from the Empire’s hero he would become its disgrace. Worse, it could also influence the Emperor’s reputation if it got out that his apprentice was giving out special favors by sleeping with the Grand Moff. A strong Empire was a united one with an unquestionable power figure. The propaganda that the Empire was spreading around would not hold if things like this got out. Even if sleeping around, lying, cheating, and killing was something that happened in the Empire every day to achieve one’s goals, it still was something to be done as discreetly as possible. Being outed was basically a death sentence.

Which was why he was so worried about Vader’s recent decline in behavior. Anakin got so attached to him, obsessively so, that he could expose them without meaning too. One wrong move, one wrong word, and they both would be paying the price. He knew that the right way would be to end the whole thing, even if he did love Anakin with his whole heart and the idea of being separated from him caused Wilhuff’s chest to constrict painfully. Tarkin cursed himself that he even started this, that he gave into his lover’s sweet words and soft touches. He was hopelessly tied to Vader before he even realized what was happening. He knew what they had wasn’t healthy, far from it. He knew it for years. But every time those strong hands teased him just the right way, every time he heard the deep growls as the other spilled promises of what he would do to Wilhuff, every time he came with his lover’s name on his tongue and then heard Vader’s tender declarations of love… He couldn’t, he couldn’t imagine living without this.

Maybe the obsession went both ways after all.

Wilhuff gazed at Thrawn in thought. He really was curious about the animal addition. Mostly because the Grand Admiral never did anything without a reason. On the other hand, he felt that it was an obvious trap he was walking into. It was a feeling he got with the Chiss a lot. So why not lay his own trap?

“Grand Admiral, my curiosity is burning, I hate to admit. Who is your new friend?” Wilhuff asked casually, smirking a little.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the animal was a part of Thrawn’s obsession with collecting artifacts of the various cultures spread out through the Galaxy.

“Oh? This little one you mean? It’s my pet Ysalamiri.” Answered Thrawn, caressing the creature under the head as it let out a strange guttural noise of content.

Tarkin looked at the man confused. This was the first time he saw a creature like this and the name also didn’t ring any bells. Always thirsty for new knowledge his eyes sparkled as he kept prodding the other about the animal.

“My, my, I have to be honest, I have never encountered one, nor ever heard about it. Is there anything more you can tell me? You know how I love discovering new things.” Spoke Wilhuff jovially, looking at Thrawn a little coyly, his icy gaze saying things his words didn’t.

The Chiss’ reaction was predictable and immediate. His eyes widened slightly as his nostrils flared. He gazed at Tarkin openly now, his red eyes gleaming darkly as he took in the Grand Moff from head to toe slowly. Wilhuff watched as Thrawn opened his mouth a little, seeing a blue tongue move over pearly white teeth in hunger. A white clad chest puffed in pride as the man prepared to impress Wilhuff with his knowledge. Internally Tarkin smirked. It was amusing that the Chiss still thought there was a chance of them having something.

Oh, Thrawn did proposition him many times since they met. He was apparently immensely attracted to Tarkin’s mind. This in turn made the Chiss become very attracted to the Grand Moff physically too. Thrawn wasn’t shy about his advances either. He made it well known that he only pursed those he deemed equal to himself in intellect and power, and Wilhuff fit that criteria. Adding to the fact that both man worked together a lot once upon a time only meant that Thrawn was able to spend enough time around Tarkin to deem him a desirable partner material. Whether he just wanted to have sex or something more substantial, Wilhuff had no idea, but he did know that it was both mental and physical partnership that the Grand Admiral was after. There were rumors of course that he was already involved with some Officer, but considering how he was still looking at Tarkin with his ravenous crimson gaze, it probably wasn’t anything serious.

“Well, my dear Grand Moff, you see… this here is a special lizard species. They come from a planet called Myrkr. Not really a place to my taste, too warm, a jungle world truly. The Ysalamiri are very fascinating creatures. Through evolution, they managed to gain the ability of blocking the powers of Force users, to protect themselves from native predators. As you know, I am not fond of those using the Force as I had a nasty run in with their kind in the past. This is why I have been taking this little one everywhere with me since I acquired it. Isn’t he just marvelous?”

Thrawn was looking at him with glowing eyes as they continued their walk. On the outside Tarkin was still smiling pleasantly, but inside he was fuming. How dare the Chiss not inform him not only about finding those species, something that could pose a danger to the Emperor, but also bringing one onto his ship without prior notice.

As if sensing his thoughts, Thrawn stopped for a moment, halting their movements. They were almost at the meeting room, so Tarkin found the behavior strange.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought my pet? After all, I heard your own pet Sith will be here too.” Purred out Thrawn.

That damn smirk. Tarkin felt both angry and impressed. Thrawn somehow managed to get the information that Vader would be here today. Not only did he find out about this, he must have known Wilhuff would be using the Sith as his personal bodyguard and persuasive measure. This is why he brought the damn thing, it would make Anakin basically useless. Not to mention it would probably make the Sith furious, something he didn’t need.

“But of course not Grand Admiral. Shall we?”

This was going to be a complete disaster.

Of course he was right.

The moment Vader walked in on the middle of their meeting the atmosphere changed. But not in the usual way it did when Anakin spread out his powers, making everyone else aware of him and making them bend. Instead, Wilhuff didn’t feel a thing. And that was such a wrong sensation, knowing his lover was there but not feeling him from the distance. Tarkin didn’t turn around to greet Vader, instead he continued talking with Thrawn. But the warning hissing of that damned lizard and the Sith’s own labored breathing weren’t helping.

“What is this?” Rasped Vader darkly.

It was in that moment that Wilhuff knew that this was going to end badly. The things that followed were quick in succession. Vader going off on Thrawn, calling him a traitor to the Empire and threatening to kill him after the Chiss explained why the Sith couldn’t use his powers. Then more vexing words from the Grand Admiral, mocking the Force user’s helplessness. Tarkin just sat there with his face in his hands, listening tiredly to the verbal battle that was taking place between the two men. He sighed in frustration. Wilhuff knew that at this point this meeting would not continue, they would all need a day for things to calm down. So he stood abruptly, quieting the other two with his sudden movement.

“Gentlemen, I believe that right now we will be unable to proceed with the meeting. Therefore I propose that we take a day to… sort out our thoughts and then come back to the topic. Is that alright with you Grand Admiral Thrawn?” He asked calmly.

Thrawn nodded his acknowledgment at Tarkin’s words.

“Of course Grand Moff Tarkin. Forgive me, it seems I might have gotten a little carried away. Please, accept my sincere apology.” Responded Thrawn in a deep voice.

He held out his hand for Tarkin to shake as a physical sign of things being alright between them. Wilhuff started at the blue fingers for a moment. He hated being touched by others, especially when he didn’t initiate the contact. But he knew that he had to stay on good terms with the man. Reluctantly, he reached for Thrawn’s hand, but when it was finally in the Chiss’ own, much larger palm, he felt it being turned. With widening eyes he observed, as if on a slowed down holovid, as Thrawn raised Tarkin’s hand to his dark, blue lips. He felt them on his hand, the Chiss looking at him with his smoldering red gaze the whole time, observing his reactions. Tarkin gasped a little at the other’s bold move, not really knowing how to behave. He wasn’t used to anyone but Anakin touching him like this. The cold lips lingered far longer than it was proper on his skin, he could tell.

Wilhuff was so lost he completely forgot about Vader being in the same room. That is until he heard the sound of a lightsaber being turned on and saw the blinding red close to Thrawn’s neck.

“Let. Go. Of. Him.” Growled out Vader word by word.

Tarkin watched as Thrawn’s eyes danced in amusement. But there was also something else in them.

Curiosity.

Wilhuff knew that this was not a good sign. A man like Thrawn becoming interested in something could end up very badly. So without a word, he slowly took his hand back gently, letting it fall limply next to his side. Then, without breaking eye contact with the Chiss, he addressed the Sith.

“Lord Vader, I do not believe the Grand Admiral had any ill intentions with his gesture, so if you would kindly put your weapon away? We are all fighting for the same cause after all, are we not?” He spoke calmly, still watching Thrawn.

Vader growled once more, but he did listen to Tarkin. The lightsaber vanished out of sight. He was thankful there wouldn’t be any bloodshed. But Wilhuff also felt discontent, because of Vader’s obvious slip in behavior. What Thrawn did, while unexpected and maybe a little improper, was not reason enough for the Sith to draw his weapon. Anakin lost control and just gave the Grand Admiral grounds that there was something more between them if the kiss provoked such reaction. Damn his lover. What has gotten into him? He knew they had to be careful, he thought Anakin’s extremely possessive ways were left in the past, that Vader was much more controlled by now.

“Ah, I apologize Grand Moff. I sometimes forget that you do not know of my race’s customs. The kiss on the hand while apologizing is simply a show of how we view the other person as our equal and we wish for them to forgive us quickly.” Spoke Thrawn softly, his eyes glued to Tarkin’s face.

Wilhuff nodded in understanding and out of the corner of his eye saw Vader relax a little. Good. A Sith out for the blood of one of the most brilliant man in the Empire was not something he, nor the Emperor wanted.

“I will retire now, if that is alright with you Grand Moff.” Said Thrawn with a smile.

“Of course Grand Admiral. Hopefully, we can finish the meeting tomorrow once we all had proper rest and... calmed down a little.” Answered Tarkin, gazing pointedly at Vader, narrowing his eyes in displeasure.

Both men nodded to each other in farewell, the Sith Lord standing by, still tense as he watched Thrawn walk towards the door. Just as the Chiss was about to leave, he turned around slowly, looking at Tarkin with clear lust in his eyes, the red glowing.

“You should know, _Wilhuff_ , that a kiss on the hand in my culture also means that we find someone desirable and wish to mate with them…” Purred out Thrawn lowly, caressing Tarkin’s name with his tongue.

Tarkin’s eyes widened despite himself as he watched the Chiss quickly vacate the area after those words, the doors hissing behind him as they closed. He was surprised at how bold Thrawn was being, it was unusual for him. Wilhuff took him for someone far more subtle than this.

He didn’t have time to react when he felt strong hands grip him painfully by the arms and forcing him to stare at a clearly furious Vader. Wilhuff felt himself being lifted up with no effort by the powerful Sith and deposited harshly on the meeting room table. Then a dark clad hand pushed him backwards, splayed over his chest as it kept him pinned to the surface while he lay on his back. Tarkin gazed up in shock at his lover as he heard a deep, continuous growling come from the Sith. Vader was staring at him, and despite not being able to see his eyes, Wilhuff knew Anakin was furious by the oppressive power that filled the room the moment Thrawn left with his pet lizard.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he heard Vader’s raspy voice.

“Mine, you are mine.”

Oh, that was the reason for his aggressive behavior.

“Can you please stop acting like a hormonal beast for a moment and let me up?” Spoke Tarkin with irritation coloring his voice.

For a few seconds nothing happened. The silence felt heavy with the tension between them. Vader was still looking at him steadily, the fingers on Wilhuff’s chest twitching slightly in indecision.

Tarkin sighed tiredly.

“ _Sithling_ , please. You know I am yours. Thrawn was obviously trying to rile you up. He was suspicious of our relationship, I could tell, and you just fell right into his trap with your behavior. Let us hope that maybe he won’t use it against us somehow or run straight to the Emperor.” Huffed Tarkin gently.

This seemed to do the trick. The Force power retreated back into the Sith. Vader seemed to have realized his mistake, because his whole body language suddenly screamed of a scolded child. The hand on Tarkin’s chest moved to help him sit up on the table, this time gently. He felt Vader massage softly the area where he gripped the Grand Moff’s arm before, apologetic. Wilhuff winced a little in pain when the forming bruises were touched and the Sith immediately let go off him.

“Forgive me. I simply could not bear to see him touch you.” Rasped out Vader quietly.

Tarkin gazed at his lover sadly. He reached forward, and thanks to being seated upon the table, was able to cup Vader’s mask between his hands. Wilhuff caressed one side of it slowly, watching as his lover leaned into the touch, sighing with appreciation, even if he couldn’t feel Tarkin’s skin on his.  

“Anakin, listen to me carefully. You have to control this possessive behavior of yours. I do not wish to see us separated, but if it will mean that you will be safe, then I will end this. Do you understand me? What happened today cannot repeat.” Spoke Wilhuff slowly, making sure his words and their seriousness reached the Sith.

Vader only nodded in understanding and then enveloped the older man in a tight hug. Tarkin felt the huge form tremble in his arms and felt conflicted emotions raging inside him. He both understood Anakin’s behavior and also knew it could not continue.

It was exactly how he felt once more as he stood in his bathroom, thinking. After the Thrawn incident his lover calmed down a little. Wilhuff reassured him nightly of how much he belonged to the Sith and that there was no one else for him in the whole Galaxy. For some time it worked.

Until Orson Krennic.

When Tarkin met him, he expected the new Director to be after Vader. He was in a way. There was a strange hero worship in Krennic’s eyes and voice whenever the Sith Lord was mentioned. Wilhuff often felt irrationally angry then, even territorial. He wanted to throttle the Director every time he mentioned his lover. The Grand Moff caught himself trying not to sneer at the other man far more often than he would like to admit. This kind of animalistic behavior from his wasn’t something normal. Anakin must have been rubbing off on him.

Orson Krennic, as it turned out, was also after a good relationship with Tarkin. But the Grand Moff did not like the way someone below him held himself so highly from day one. The informal way Krennic addressed him when they first met left a bad taste in his mouth. The Director was flamboyant and childish in his ideas and ambitions. He also seemed to believe that if he wanted something then he would simply get it. The fact that he actually killed the previous Director to get to his current position also made Tarkin grimace. Could the man at least not have an ounce of dignity and intellect and deal with his opponent differently? Killing someone off just like that was so… inelegant. Moreover, while Krennic was not a complete idiot, it was clear who was the mastermind behind the Death Star. How Galen Erso became friends with a man like Krennic, who was the man’s walking opposite, was beyond even Tarkin.

Wilhuff sighed. While Krennic might have been after Vader, the Sith Lord made it a point to make sure the Director knew of his dislike for him. Especially when around Tarkin. The Grand Moff frowned. They have started arguing a lot about the close proximity in which he had to work with Krennic, as well as the time Tarkin spent with the other. Of course the jealousy on Anakin’s part was unfounded. Wilhuff detested Krennic and he was sure that by now the man felt very similar about him. He could of course understand Vader’s worry over his safety, after all, who knew if the Director wasn’t just waiting around the corner to stab him in the back?

But their spats over the man weren’t what worried Wilhuff. It was the way Vader was clearly marking him as his whenever he could. The Sith wasn’t even subtle about it, barging in unannounced on his meetings with the Director, standing as close as he could to Wilhuff so their bodies were touching, casually brushing his gloved hand against the Grand Moff’s fingers. His presence lingered in the room, the dark, oppressive power of the Force always stronger during those moments. And even without being Force sensitive Tarkin spent too much time around his lover not to notice those shifts in power.

With Thrawn, it was a one-time slip of control. Since the Chiss didn’t contact Wilhuff about his relationship with Vader and never mentioned it during their later meetings, Tarkin decided not to worry about it for now. If the Grand Admiral’s eyes shone a little differently every time they met after the incident, Wilhuff pretended not to see it, if only not to give Thrawn more grounds to blackmail him somehow.

Krennic was a different problem. With the Death Star under construction Tarkin had to meet with him constantly. There wasn’t a day when he didn’t see the Director somehow. Which meant that as each day passed, Vader was getting more and more agitated about another man being so close to his lover, especially one who was ready to kill. Anakin was slipping again. If only he could speak with another Sith about a way to calm him down somehow. But there was only one other Sith and he didn’t want the Emperor to know about their relationship. Besides, he had a feeling that the man would only encourage his apprentice’s destructive behavior.

What to do…

 

***

 

It was unusual for the Emperor to request a face-to-face meeting with Tarkin. Usually a holo conversation was enough. But this time Palpatine demanded that the Grand Moff see him personally, or rather, that the Emperor would be soon arriving on Wilhuff’s ship. Tarkin found it strange how hasty the man sounded in the recorded message. It felt as if something very important happened, because the Emperor also appeared to be… excited about whatever it was they would be discussing. As loyal as he was to the Empire and Palpatine, he also worried every time the Sith got a new idea. Anakin and his Master were similar in that regard that they went through certain periods of madness. Whatever ideas they got during those times were bound to become a problem. Usually for the Grand Moff, both professionally and in his private life.

Of course the Emperor never followed the set schedule. When Tarkin heard his comm link going off like mad on the day of the man’s visit he knew something happened that wasn’t planned.

“Yes? What is it?” He asked irritated.

The visits from the Emperor always made him feel on edge.

“Sir, the Emperor is already here! He is in your office…” Came the distressed words of one of his Officers.

Tarkin sighed tiredly. Figures Palpatine would pull something like this. Sith and their dramatics, really, he knew where Anakin got it from.

“Remain calm. While I speak with the Emperor make sure everything is in top condition, in case His Highness wishes to inspect the ship. Understood?”

“Yes Sir!”

Tarkin ended the conversation and straightened the collar of his uniform. He took a deep breath, once more looking into his mirror to make sure that he looked impeccable. Wilhuff closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind like his lover taught him. It wouldn’t do for the Emperor to catch some stray thoughts about his recent worries, especially the ones concerning his troubles with Vader.

A strange calm swept over him and he heard words echo in his mind warmly.

_I am with you, my One. I might not be with you when you speak with my Master, but I will be waiting for you to summon me after._

Tarkin smiled with his eyes closed, letting the warmth sent over the Force spread through his body.

 _You promised not to read my mind._ He thought loudly, knowing Vader would pick it up.

But for some reason he did not mind this time and let the intrusion slide.

He needed it before meeting with the Emperor.

 

***

 

“My dearest Grand Moff… I am so glad to see you.” Spoke the Emperor in his raspy voice.

Tarkin bowed deeply in respect.

“Your Highness. It is a pleasure to have you here. Forgive me for not greeting you when you arrived. I was not notified you would be here ahead of schedule.” Answered Wilhuff calmly.

The Emperor sitting in Tarkin’s chair, behind his working desk, only chuckled darkly in response. His yellow gaze burned as it looked at the Grand Moff. It looked almost… hungry. Tarkin felt uneasy with the whole situation. There were too many things left unanswered. Why did the Emperor want to see him personally, what did he want to discuss? Why was he looking at him so strangely now?

Wilhuff gazed subtly around the room. Nothing seemed to be have been moved, yet something felt strangely out of place.

“Your Highness, might I be so bold to ask as to where are your guards?” He spoke carefully, making his tone as neutral as possible.

Palpatine chuckled again as he stood up from the chair and started to slowly walk around the room.

“This is a very good question my loyal servant. Let’s just say that what I wish to discuss with you is of a… personal nature.” Said the Sith cryptically.

Tarkin frowned slightly at the answer. He observed keenly as the Emperor touched one of the books he kept in his office. While books kept on paper were definitely archaic at this point, Wilhuff had a certain fondness for them. He enjoyed the feel and smell of old tomes much more than the slick, cold look of his holopad.

“Personal, Your Highness?” He prompted.

“Yes, personal indeed.. But before we get to that, there is another matter I wish to discuss with you. It concerns Lord Vader actually.”

Wilhuff felt his body size. Whenever Palpatine wanted to talk about Anakin, he always became tense. What if he found out about them? What then?

“I have been able to find out that the children of my apprentice, that I was made to believe died at childbirth, are in fact both alive.” Started the Emperor.

Something cold spread through Wilhuff’s body at those words. At first he thought he might have heard wrong. Maybe his age was finally catching up to him, because there was no way…

“Children, Your Highness? I was not aware Lord Vader was… involved with anyone.” Were his next words.

He felt as if someone put cotton in his mouth. Like he was observing his body function and speak, but not being in control of it.

“Yes. While Lord Vader was still Anakin Skywalker, he married Padme Amidala. I am sure you remember her, she was the Queen of Naboo and a Senator after all. They had two children together, twins in fact. The problem is, while the mother died, the children have survived. It is something I have become aware of in the last few days. I have been trying to locate the children and can feel one of them in the Force already. My theory is that one of the twins is strong in the Force, maybe as strong as its father, while the other took more after Amidala. But the process of finding a child in the Force like this is not an easy one and time consuming. It will be a while before I manage to locate its specific whereabouts. Of course, Lord Vader must not find out about this, which is why I am speaking about this with you.”

Wilhuff just stood silently, trying to somehow make sense of all he just heard. But if Vader had children with Amidala while he was still Anakin Skywalker, then that would mean…

“May I ask what I have to do with Lord Vader’s… children? Would it not be better for him to know about this so he could help you find them, Your Highness?” Questioned Tarkin, still unable to comprehend what he just found out.

Denial was such a wonderful state after all.

“You are to distract him. I will not have Vader’s children running around, threatening to destroy everything I have built. Force forbid we get another wave of Jedi. The faster I find them both and kill them, the faster I can go back to ruling the Galaxy in peace. Until then, I will have to fully focus on the issue. Which is why you are to make sure Vader is well distracted and doesn’t somehow find out about this. He is far too nosy about things when he wants to be.” Answered the Emperor, waving his hand in dismissal.

“But Your Highness, surely Lord Vader could just read the information from my mind. And how am I to distract hi-”

“The same way you have been doing so far. Do not think me foolish or blind Wilhuff. My apprentice basically projects his possessive thoughts about you every time you two are in the same room. And he wasn’t very subtle when he was younger either. Besides, I know about your agreement on not reading your mind. Remember my servant, nothing hides from me.” Interrupted the other man.

Tarkin opened and closed his mouth in shock slightly. He should have never doubted the Emperor’s abilities. But he thought they were being careful… Fear filled his body. Will he be punished now for keeping this a secret?

“You are in no trouble my Grand Moff. If it wasn’t for you calming him down and pulling on his leash, I am sure Vader would have been causing far more problems than he does now. So you can continue your little play at house. I even encourage it since it works in my favor.” Answered his thoughts the Sith.

Tarkin could only nod as he analyzed everything he heard so far. He didn’t know how he felt about it all. He couldn’t let his emotions rule him right now. Wilhuff would wait until he was back in his quarters and then calmly think. He let the Emperor continue his talking.

“But my dear Grand Moff, this is not the main reason I wished to speak to you alone. When I realized that there is a danger of Vader’s spawns ruining my hard work, I also remembered my own mortality. I will not rule forever. So I will need someone to take over after I pass away. Someone I could mold to be exactly how I want them. Of course my apprentice is out of question, the trauma he suffered and the power of the Sith had too much influence on him. He would not make a good ruler. I could have my own child, but then having one with a random person seems such a waste and a chance directed thing. What if the child is born simply stupid or without my powers? But then a brilliant thought came to me. I could easily create an artificial child, a perfect Heir that would have my genes and those of my chosen, suitable partner.”

Tarkin listened to this closely, observing the way the man’s voice started to become more giddy and excited as he spoke. He jerked a little when the Emperor stopped his pacing and stood in front of him. A pale, wrinkled hand reached from beneath the dark robe and old fingers caressed his cheek slowly as the golden gaze burned into him greedily. Wilhuff shuddered slightly. This was not going anywhere he liked, especially with the unnecessary touching.

“I have been thinking who would have the perfect genes and qualities that would work for this. And then I remembered you, my dearest Wilhuff, my loyal, brilliant servant. You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you, my Grand Moff? Think about it, a child born from our union, one planned from the beginning to the end would be the perfect ruler, both powerful in the Force and brilliant…” Spoke the Emperor reverently.

Tarkin felt his lips tremble and his hands shake a little as the Sith spoke and kept caressing his face. He felt nauseous and disgusted at the very idea. No, he didn’t even want to think about such thing. He couldn’t…

He didn’t know what to do!

“…and as beautiful as you.” Continued the Emperor.

Tarkin visibly cringed, unable to control his reactions at this point.

“Y-your Highness…” He tried to speak, but felt his throat closing up.

“Ah… I can feel the distress coming from you. Do not worry, all I require is a few samples of your genetic material, nothing more. You will do this for me, won’t you my Grand Moff?”

“Of course. Anything for you, Your Highness.” He spoke in clipped words.

It was like swallowing glass, it hurt so much.

Tarkin breathed in deeply when the Emperor finally stopped touching him and went back to his chair. He felt like he was going to break apart if he stayed in the room for a moment longer, he wanted to leave so much.

“Will that be all, Your Highness?” Asked Wilhuff in an empty voice.

Palpatine sat in the chair and smirked.

“Oh no, not yet Wilhuff. I would like to see what I’m getting, I’m sure you understand. I need to make sure you are perfect to be my Heir’s other parent. I want you to strip.”

No, please no.

“And my dearest Wilhuff… take off all of it.”

 

 

***

 

The Emperor has left hours ago but Tarkin was still sitting on the floor of his office against his desk. His clothes were put on sloppily, his comm link going off, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. Wilhuff locked the door from the inside and ignored every concerned call of his Officers from the other side. Tarkin knew they wouldn’t be able to override the code. He was looking at his hands as they trembled. A shiver of disgust went through his body, a full out tremble causing him to double over as if in pain. He choked on a sob as he felt a wave of dizziness hit him.

_Such soft skin for someone your age._

Wilhuff wanted to throw up or maybe get drunk until he blacked out. He didn’t know what would be better at this point.

_If only I were younger I would have taken you to bed already._

No, no, no, he did not want to think about it, to remember it.

_You look really good like this, flushed all over, on your knees before me._

Tarkin hugged himself as if he were cold. Disgusting, repulsive…

_I can see now why Vader is so possessive of you._

He fell on the floor, sobbing like a child. This was not what the great Empire was supposed to be like. This was not the great leader he swore to serve. This was utter madness. In that moment Wilhuff Tarkin, for the first time in his life, wanted to die, to just go to sleep and never wake up. And for once he questioned the choices he made. He never before felt so violated, even if all Palpatine did was touch him and say those vile, disgusting words. Tarkin was made of hard stuff, even if he was emotional he could control his feelings. But at the same time it was too much. To see those eyes drink up his naked image, to feel those wrinkled hands caress his body, grip it greedily… Only Vader was allowed that, only Anakin could see him vulnerable like that…

“Grand Moff Tarkin, if you do not open this door right now, we will be forced to call Lord Vader to assist us!”

Ah, that must have been Motti. So loyal to him. Wilhuff must have really scared his Officers if the man was ready to call Vader whom he detested with a fierce passion.

He didn’t answer, but he slowly tried to put himself together. Even if they did call Vader it would take him a while to get there. Enough time to make sure that no one would be able to see him in this state. He could manage to make himself presentable.

_You are mine Wilhuff Tarkin._

He finally threw up.

 

***

 

When he managed to calm down his frantic crew, Tarkin informed Motti that he was feeling ill and that the man was to take over for him until further notice. Of course Conan only looked at him worriedly, asking if there was anything he could do for the Grand Moff. But Wilhuff just waved him off. He told the other that he just needed rest and even let a little smirk grace his features to make sure Motti’s suspicions vanished. Of course the Officer wasn’t dumb, Tarkin could tell that Conan was very well aware that his superior was clearly distressed and hiding something. But with a respectful nod Motti left him to his own devices.

Now Wilhuff was in his room, sitting in his nightwear and sipping one of the strongest drinks in his collection. He was silent, gazing numbly at the endless, dark space before him. It calmed him down somehow, together with the strong alcohol warming his cold body from the shock and trauma it went through. He knew Motti informed Vader of his state and that the Sith Lord was already on the way.

The grip on his glass tightened, his lips pulling into a straight line as warm tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. He closed them, the blessed darkness helping slightly.

He did not forget about another distressing matter, despite the violation he suffered from the Emperor’s hands. No, he remembered very well something else that made him feel weak and broken.

Anakin was lying to him from the very beginning.

 

***

 

Tarkin did not tell Vader what he knew about him, his past, Amidala, his children… He said nothing.

But the tear, the wound was there, and it was very fresh. And it was so deep that he could not pretend it did not exist. When Anakin arrived on his ship he didn’t wait for Wilhuff to summon him. Instead he ran into his personal quarters and swept the man in his warm, huge arms. For a moment Tarkin felt safe, he felt home, he felt loved. Wilhuff almost started sobbing like a child then, wanting so much to return the embrace. But then he remembered the Emperor’s words about his lover and he tensed, trying to push the questioning Sith as far away as possible. Wilhuff felt betrayed from Vader’s lies and dirtied by Palpatine’s hands.

It was when their relationship started to fall apart.

He still loved Anakin of course. It was the only reason why he didn’t say anything, why he was still with the other. It was also because he knew he was expected to distract the Sith, so he wouldn’t find out about his children. This caused Wilhuff to feel raw pain, because every meeting with his lover reminded him of all that he now knew. And every time the wound was reopened, salt poured over his bleeding, tired heart.

He no longer welcomed the other man in his bed. His touch also left him feeling uneasy. The way Palpatine violated him made him want to curl in on himself and never unfurl. He already scrubbed his skin raw in the shower a few times. It took Wilhuff a few weeks to get back to his old self after the incident.

They fought about it all of course. Vader clearly wanted to read Tarkin’s mind, but thankfully respected the set boundaries, not wanting to upset the older man even further. Still, he was frustrated, because he did not understand why his One suddenly avoided him and his touch like a plague.

“I can’t today Vader, I’m busy.” Spoke Tarkin as he kept his eyes focused on the documents in front of him.

Vader growled in displeasure. He grabbed the holopad from Wilhuff’s hands roughly, which forced the Grand Moff to look at his lover.

“Then when Wilhuff? When will I be able to have you once more, my One?” Prompted Vader grimly.

Tarkin looked at him blankly, his mind empty.

“I don’t know.”

He truly didn’t.

 

***

 

He wasn’t surprised when Orson Krennic barged in on his private time, demanding to talk. That was the typical, uncivilized behavior of the man. If it wasn’t for the clearly desperate note in his voice, he wouldn’t have let him in. But he just had another spat with Vader and Krennic was the perfect subject to take out his frustration on.

What he didn’t expect was the subject of their discussion. He stared at the man in contemplation. So the little snake knew about his relationship with Anakin. Interesting. How did he manage to observe them without Vader noticing his presence was beyond him. He would need to speak to the Sith about it, it was obvious he needed to be more aware of his surroundings.

The first demand for Krennic’s silence was laughable. So childish to come all the way and simply ask that he be called by his proper, it Tarkin’s opinion stolen, title. But he would indulge the overgrown child if that’s what he wanted. It didn’t escape his notice, the way the Director’s eyes darkened in obvious pleasure when Wilhuff addressed him properly.

Tarkin almost hummed in displeasure at that. Krennic’s eyes had the unfortunate quality that made him irrationally irritated and uneasy. They were the same color as Ver’s. It was almost uncanny, how the man’s eye color was an exact copy of hers. He hated them from the moment he met the other man. His behavior towards him was harsh and slightly immature, he knew that. But every time he saw those blue, blue eyes, he saw her. Did he want to punish Ver through Krennic for betraying him? Or maybe he was punishing the man for daring to have the eyes of the woman who broke his heart?

Could it be he was punishing both of them at the same time by clearly mistreating the Director?

“I want what you have with Vader.”

Those words did surprise him a little, even if he didn’t show it. He did not expect Krennic’s interest in him to be THAT. Had he known the man was attracted to him sexually he would have used it against him a long time ago. Tarkin knew of the Director’s reputation of sleeping around since the Academy days. Of course he found it distasteful. Using carnal pleasure instead of intellect to purse one’s goal was so basic in nature. No finesse at all.

Tarkin thought it over. Considering he was very cross with Vader right now and he needed to let his frustrations out somehow... Usually that would mean going to his lover, but since he didn’t want to even look at Anakin right now, that was out of the question. But here was Krennic, basically giving himself up on a silver platter for Wilhuff’s enjoyment.

_You are mine Wilhuff Tarkin._

The voices of the Emperor and Vader sounded out in union in his mind and his expression darkened.

No more, he would be his own master again.

When he questioned Krennic to make sure the man knew what he was getting into he was back to his old, devious self. It felt good to know more than his opponent once more, to be the one truly in control of the situation.

He almost laughed out loud when he saw the barely restrained arousal on Krennic’s face as he agreed to the deal with the devil.

“Very well then. Get on your knees.”

The test, the same one he gave to Anakin ages ago. A test to see how much Krennic wanted him.

His smirk widened when Krennic’s face twisted into a complete look of shock and confusion. Oh, how well it fit the man who thought so highly about himself. Krennic probably thought that it was Vader who pushed Tarkin around and took what he wanted. How wrong he was. Did he expect Wilhuff to submit and worship him? It must have been one of the man’s little fantasies about him. Truly, so predictable.

“E-excuse me?” Spoke the Director weakly.

Tarkin almost wanted to take pity on the foolish man.

Almost.

“Did you not ask me to provide the same relationship I have with Lord Vader? Was that not one of your requests for your silence?” Prompted Tarkin.

His ability not to start laughing hysterically at Krennic’s face was truly a proof of his famous restraint. Honestly, the Director reminded him of a fish out of water, opening and closing its mouth as it tried to catch some much needed air. Tarkin observed in endless amusement as Krennic’s face turned an ugly red, anger sparking in his eyes.

Her eyes.

Wilhuff’s mood dampened a little.

“Honestly Director, I am not surprised. I did not expect you to follow my command right away, after all it took Vader some time to do it too. You two aren’t as different as I thought…” Goaded the Grand Moff, feigning indifference and boredom.

He knew where to strike a man’s ego and Krennic was nothing more but a simple man. And he was sure he hit the jackpot when he noticed the instant twist to the man’s expression. Oh yes, he had him where he wanted.

“I am much better than Vader.” Spat Krennic, his blue eyes blazing.

Wilhuff much doubted the statement, but he didn’t voice it out loud. Instead he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and mentioned with his long fingers towards Krennic’s form. He watched pleased as the man’s eyes followed his hand’s movement obsessively, completely focused on Tarkin.

For some reason,this made him feel slightly excited himself, to have such control over another once more. It was a familiar feeling that he missed as of late.

“Well then, such simple task shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it? Unless of course you would like to take your time to think it over, like Vader did…”

“I will do it!” Interrupted Krennic.

Like a little boy wanting approval. Exactly where Tarkin wanted him.

He watched as Krennic battled with himself for a moment, clearly his pride taking the strongest burn for what he was about to do. So similar to Anakin he was, it actually was something Tarkin wasn’t expecting to notice. But then the younger man slowly lowered himself to his knees and the Grand Moff’s thoughts cleared as he watched Krennic’s cape pooling around him enticingly, his eyes on Wilhuff all the time, challenging. The blue orbs were focused on him so intensely, a familiar hunger of arousal sparking in them. Krennic’s cheeks were flushed slightly, whether in embarrassment or desire, Wilhuff wasn’t sure. But he would be lying if he said that the sight of the proud man on his knees before him didn’t arouse him.

“What now?” Asked Krennic, his voice low, but still holding a little too much pride in it.

Oh, he was learning the game fast it seemed. Too fast perhaps. Already asking for directions, so sure of himself. Tarkin couldn’t have that.

“Now, I want to see you crawl on your hands and knees towards me like the dog you are. You will keep your eyes on me all the time. Do you understand me, _Director_?” Spat Tarkin nastily.

Krennic snarled back a little, but his face was still flushed, his eyes dark.

“Yes.” Growled the man.

Oh, how delightful.

 


	5. What We Truly Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language.
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> ***
> 
> I apologize for the long wait. Life once more kicked me a few times too hard. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter despite it being written on allergy meds.

Being on his knees in front of someone was one thing, but crawling towards them like an animal… That was something Orson only indulged in with sexual partners and only those he enjoyed the experience with, not when he bargained. To give so much of his control away to someone else, especially someone like Tarkin, was dangerous. On the other hand, wasn’t this what he wanted? To have the other’s attention? His hard stare bore into the man in front of him as his eyes lit up in unhappiness and anger. The Grand Moff was clearly enjoying the situation as far as Krennic could tell. His eyes were crinkled pleasantly and his mouth formed an almost soft smile. Orson knew that it was foolish, but he almost could believe that this delicate upturn of the lip was for him, that his superior was gazing at him with something more than entertainment, that maybe… maybe Wilhuff Tarkin felt something for him after all.

Foolish. Disgusting.

Still, even knowing that, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster, his thoughts to cloud over with only the older man occupying his mind. And when he saw Tarkin get more comfortable in the armchair, leaning back into it as he let out a content sigh, as his legs spread wider giving Orson an even more seductive view than before…

He knew he would do anything for this man and he would do everything in his power to have Tarkin’s attentions focused solely on him.

Oh, how the tides have changed. To think he would have never noticed his own feelings if it wasn’t for Vader’s possessiveness.

“Well _Director_?” Prompted Tarkin’s voice in amusement.

Orson noticed now how low it was, how the sound pleasantly rolled over his whole body, especially when Tarkin’s tongue curled around his title. He bit his lower lip, trying to silence the sounds that threatened to escape his mouth at the sensation. Damn him, acting like a hormonal teenager, unable to control his body’s reaction. But how could he when Tarkin’s… Wilhuff’s voice sounded so full of promises, of heat and fulfilled fantasies.

His initial distaste at having to crawl over to the other vanished. He wanted this, didn’t he? Orson desired the man in every possible way. The Director knew that his initial reaction to the order was simply something he learned to do when Tarkin was the one issuing it. But he no longer had to pretend, because now he knew that he was lying to himself from the start, that he did not want this, that he found it beneath himself to do as the other wanted.

Of course he imagined he would be the one to take Wilhuff. He felt his blood rush just at the idea of dominating the other during sex. Orson already spent a few nights with his hand working his cock furiously as he grunted and groaned, fantasizing about having the other man under him on his bed, pounding into the pale body as Tarkin begged him for more. He could hear that pleasant voice, hoarse from screaming, telling Krennic how good he is, how so much better than Vader. Knowing he was superior to the Force user was a huge turn on for him as Orson discovered when exploring this new angle of his feelings for the Grand Moff.

Which was why it caused a flash of white anger to course through him when Wilhuff compared him to the Sith.

He would show him just how much more he could give Tarkin, he wouldn’t need Vader anymore.

With those thoughts in mind he slowly got on his hands, his gaze focused on the Grand Moff the whole time as he started to slowly crawl towards him. Orson was making sure that his body moved in an inviting manner, his eyes burning with the lust he was feeling, hoping its flame would swallow Tarkin whole.

Krennic knew it was working when he saw Wilhuff’s eyes widen a little, just a bare movement, but still there. He smirked knowing how he must look right now. Orson’s cheeks flushed from excitement as he got closer and closer to his prize. He never broke the eye contact, even when he felt his neck start to hurt from the uncomfortable angle it was at. But hearing the little and fast intake of breath from Wilhuff was worth some discomfort. Being aware that he was affecting the Grand Moff enough to provoke those reactions made his ego swell with pride.

He still had it despite his age.

When he finally reached the older man he didn’t say anything. He got back to kneeling before Tarkin, and trembling in excitement, he reached towards those long legs with his hands, his eyes glued to the icy blue that were clearly now darker due to the Grand Moff’s arousal.

But as his fingers made the first contact with the man’s pants, a touch so soft that any other person would not even feel it, he registered the sensation of pain.

Orson blinked his eyes in confusion, his head suddenly turned to the side. His left cheek burned as his brain finally caught up to what happened. Tarkin slapped him. And rather hard too, considering he could actually feel the shape of his hand forming on his skin, like a searing mark.

“I gave you no permission to touch me.” Came the cold whisper from above him.

But Wilhuff might have as well be shouting, this is how loudly and clear Krennic heard his words. He felt a mix of emotions inside himself. Of course there was anger at being treated like this. There was also shame at having failed to please the man, something he strove to do in the first place. On the other hand, he felt…

He realized that he was aroused like never before.

This version of Wilhuff Tarkin that just got physical with him was something he never experienced before. Krennic imagined it of course, but then he only had the meetings between Vader and Tarkin to take inspiration from. It almost felt like a privilege in a way. And now he wanted more. So much more.

And he knew just how to get it and in the way he wanted it.

Slowly, he turned his head around. A lazy smirk took over his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes that hid something darker behind it. Once more he reached for Tarkin’s legs, but this time he was prepared. While one of his hands grabbed onto a thin leg, his other one blocked the coming blow, catching a frail wrist tightly in his hand. He saw the surprise flash in Wilhuff’s eyes. Clearly the older man did not expect him to actually try again, let alone to stop him.

For a moment, Orson let himself marvel at the softness of the exposed skin. The fingers holding his superior’s wrist trembled slightly, clearly wanting to caress the flesh under them. But Krennic knew that to let go in that moment could ruin everything. So he held on tight, even when Tarkin tried to wrench his hand free.

“Unhand me this instant!” Spat the older man furiously.

The Director’s smirk widened. He leaned his face closer to Wilhuff’s, looking up at the man from his position on his knees.

“Why? So you can slap me again? Besides…” Spoke Krennic lowly, his eyes closing halfway.

He rose a little so his face was in front of Tarkin, their lips so close Orson could almost taste them. His breath grew faster and he could feel on his face that the Grand Moff also wasn’t unbothered by their current proximity.

“I think you like that. I think you like when I defy you. I am not a puppy that follows you around like Vader does, I challenge you. And you like it, this excitement that our encounters cause you. Because deep down you know that you also need to let go sometimes of this iron control of yours. Isn’t that true… _Wilhuff_?”

Orson almost purred those words out like a Loth-cat that just caught its prey. He watched in fascination as Tarkin for a moment looked at him in shock then took a shaky breath as if the truth of his words just registered. Using the moment of distraction, the hand that was holding the Grand Moff smoothly switched positions and Orson intertwined their fingers together. Krennic could not control his body’s trembling anymore as he realized this was the closest he has ever been to the object of his desires.

A moment of silence passed between them. But this moment said so much. Orson triumphed when Tarkin did not take his hand away, but instead he felt the Grand Moff’s fingers tighten and curl almost shyly around his. Their breathing was heavy, filled with unspoken emotions and needs. Krennic licked his suddenly parched lips as his gaze moved for a moment from Tarkin’s grey stare, to look at that thin mouth he dreamed about kissing more than once. When his eyes went back to Wilhuff’s he saw the rising panic inside them. He cursed inside. Orson could not let this happen, because if the other man got spooked, who knows when he would get another chance to play the game by his rules.

“You-” Started Tarkin, but Krennic cut him off fast.

“Hush. I know exactly what you need…” He spoke softly, his eyes burning.

The angle was uncomfortable, his neck and knees were in pain from the unnatural position, and he was trembling all over like a blushing virgin. But it all vanished behind a haze when Orson’s lips finally found Wilhuff’s.

It felt so right. As if this was what he should have been doing since Krennic was born, worshiping those surprisingly soft and tender lips. The groan of pleasure he let out was deep and guttural, something almost primal in nature. So far he didn’t feel Wilhuff responding to his kiss, but his mind was so hazed over by lust and need he didn’t even notice. He pushed forward some more, ignoring the pain in his body, wanting to drink more of the older man.

His tongue used the opportunity granted to him by Tarkin’s surprise and sneaked into the slack mouth. Krennic explored the other, tasting him for the first time. Wilhuff clearly liked feeling fresh, because Orson could taste mint, but also the flavor of the strange drink the other drank before. It was something sweet, which only made the Director want more of it.

He had a terrible sweet tooth after all.

He groaned again as he felt his body rise some more to deepen the kiss, his cheeks flushed with blood and fever. Orson was rock hard and only from the kiss. The hand that held onto Tarkin’s leg moved to grasp it above the knee to steady the Director in his new position. His lower parts were now touching the other man and without his control, Krennic’s body started to slowly rub his aching erection against Wilhuff’s leg. He could feel wetness slowly soaking his pants as his cock leaked precum.

Like a bitch in heat.

But the Director was beyond caring about shame of any kind. He was getting what he wanted and he would be damned if something so silly as pride were to stop him now.

Well, he didn’t take into account something, or rather someone, stopping him.

He yelped in pain when teeth bit sharply into his lower lip, breaking the skin and causing it to bleed. With a startled look, Orson felt himself move back in some sort of self-preservation and fall on his back. He groaned in pain when his already strained body hit the hard floor. Thankfully his head didn’t connect with the surface as strongly, or else he was sure he would have a concussion.

With great effort he lifted his body, supporting himself on his elbows as he looked at Tarkin with a questioning expression, but also irritation. He was about to say something nasty in retribution to the blood spilled, but he stopped short. Orson watched silently, with his mouth half open as the man before him transformed.

Tarkin was pale and shaking all over. He looked like some feral creature, his teeth bared, his lips smeared with Krennic’s blood. The contrast between the almost white color of the Grand Moff’s skin and the dark red was both strangely fascinating and also uncanny. It fit more with Krennic’s character, kriff, even Vader’s. While the Director did witness a more emotional side to the older man while spying on him, this wasn’t even close to what he was seeing right now.

“Get out!” Snarled out Tarkin.

Despite the clear danger Orson just put himself in he couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement that went through his body. He would be lying if he said that the idea of Wilhuff being the one to dominate him didn’t start to become more and more appealing.

“Wilhuff-” He started with a confident smirk.

But Tarkin didn’t seem to even be aware of whom he was speaking to. Orson finally noticed that the Grand Moff’s eyes were slightly hazed over when the other interrupted him.

“Shut up Skywalker! I told you to get out! This is over!” Screamed the older man.

Krennic’s mouth opened and closed in shock. What…

Tarkin lost it. Clearly something in the other man snapped. If the Director were a better man, he would have probably tried to calm the man down, but… The temptation was too big. He wanted to find out more about that Skywalker.

“Why?” He prompted cheekily.

The Grand Moff looked at him in disbelief as Krennic slowly rose to a standing position.

“Why?! You know exactly why you blasted boy. I told you that if you broke the rules this thing would be over. Just because you have the Force on your side does not give you the right to manhandle me as you please! This is over Anakin!”

Anakin… Wasn’t that the name Tarkin sometimes used towards Vader? And if Krennic’s memory was any good, he remembered that the Sith Lord disliked it with a fierce passion.

So Vader’s name used to be Anakin Skywalker. Not only that, clearly the two men had a spat over something that, if Orson was reading things right, caused a nasty break up between them.

While he would love to dig some more, the idea of Tarkin seeing him as Vader left a bitter taste in his mouth. Almost without a thought he started to take off his white cape, letting it fall to the floor. As the material pooled on the dark surface, he slowly started to walk closer to the man. Krennic softened his features, making them as non-threatening as possible.

“Wil…” Spoke Orson almost tenderly.

He reached a hesitant hand towards him and touched a now inflamed cheek with his fingertips.

The touch seemed to have once more snapped something deep within the other.

Orson watched with something akin to regret as he observed the state Wilhuff was in now.

“Ver…?” Questioned Tarkin if a painful tone as he moved away from Krennic’s hand.

The Grand Moff didn’t look so grand in that moment. He was shaking all over, white as a sheet, his eyes wide and full of fear. They still looked hazed over, their blue lost to a sea of grey, as if Tarkin wasn’t really in the room, but his mind wandered somewhere else. He was gazing at the hand Orson held just moments ago as if he didn’t understand what he was looking at. The fingers of his other hand started to softly touch his lips that were slightly parted in disbelief, dark from their kiss and smeared with Krennic’s blood.

Orson didn’t think that seeing the other man so helpless and lost would make his heart clench in pain. His feelings for the other were still confusing him. Krennic didn’t know anymore what he really wanted from the older man. Sure, he craved an intimate relationship, he desired to know Tarkin in a way probably only ever Vader has. Once more, with almost soundless steps he approached the older man.

“Wilhuff…” He tried again in a whisper.

But Tarkin didn’t pay him any mind. He was still looking at his hand as if he had seen a ghost. It didn’t sit right with the Director. He really didn’t enjoy seeing the other like this. Maybe in the past he would have felt a swell of pleasure at reducing the Grand Moff to this state, but now that things have changed… He just wanted him back to his old self. The game wasn’t as exciting if one of the players wasn’t at his best.

Orson tried reaching a hand towards Tarkin, like towards a skittish animal to calm it. The moment his warm fingers touched the cold skin of the hand that the Grand Moff was staring at so intensely, he felt a shudder pass through him. It almost felt as if something very important just took place, but he couldn’t place a finger on what it was. Tarkin’s eyes snapped towards his as he jerked out of whatever strange state he entered before, but not fully. His gaze was still a little wild, now focused on the Director’s face.

“What..?” Said Tarkin in a hoarse voice.

He sounded so unsure, so disbelieving. Wilhuff was gazing deeply into his eyes. Whatever it was that Krennic’s actions have awakened it must have been something that scarred the Grand Moff really deeply to have him behave so strangely in response.

And what was he looking for in Orson’s eyes so intently?

 

***

 

Tarkin looked at the person before him. But he didn’t know if what he saw was reality, or a dream, or maybe a hallucination.

His eyes saw Ver, her blue eyes looking at him with worry. But his body felt Anakin and his dominating actions in the bloody kiss, the grip on his hand. Yet the tender way in which their fingers fit together… Ver used to do that. Then came the words he heard before that reminded him of the Emperor, his need to use the Grand Moff as he saw fit. Then the cheeky and assured claims of Anakin. Then again the softness of his young love. Those three people that had such strong presence in his life were mingling with each other, making his head hurt and his brain to stop functioning properly. Wilhuff didn’t know what to do. He was losing control fast.

Those episodes… They have been happening since the meeting with Palpatine. Too much happened to him in a short time. He was too old for this emotional turmoil.

The betrayal, the pain, the suffering… How much more could he take before he finally broke beyond repair?

“Wilhuff.”

That voice. It was different. It didn’t fit with any of the ghosts that haunted him. It was much too low to be Ver’s unusual tones, or the deep vibrations that Vader’s voice had. Nor did it have the raspy quality of Palpatine. It was…

It was actually pleasant. Not too deep, not too soft. It was just about right.

The voice, whoever it belonged too, seemed to be calming his torn nerves. Tarkin took a long, deep breath. He gazed at the hand delicately holding his in its grasp. Something hard caught in his throat. It felt like a ball was lodged in there, hurting him, making him want to cry. He couldn’t let that happen. Whoever was here with him could not see him even more vulnerable than he already showed himself to be.

Who was with him?

His mind was slowly resurfacing from the haze. Wilhuff realized he was in his personal quarters on his very own ship. And the person that was with him and just witnessed his breakdown…

Was Orson kriffing Krennic.

 

***

 

Tarkin seemed to be getting back to his old self. His breathing was calmer now, his eyes clearer. The man was trembling softly, but he didn’t seem to be aware of it. Probably his body’s unconscious reaction to the trauma it experienced. Krennic could feel as the cold skin was slowly becoming warmer. His fingers started to caress the Grand Moff’s hand. He had to admit, as much as he enjoyed the wilder side of Tarkin, this calmness and softness between them… Orson wanted… He wanted to not only kiss, and touch, and have sex with Wilhuff. But he also wanted to take care of him. Krennic wished he could share something deeper with the charismatic man, something like he shared with Vader.

“Wilhuff…” He repeated the name once more, like a prayer.

And wasn’t that what it was in the end? The man he desired in so many ways… He felt like a worshiper that just wished to be as close to his god as possible.

Tarkin finally reacted to his name and he made a strange choked sound in the back of his throat. With sluggish movements, he dislodged their hands and took a step back from Orson.

“Director, I…” He started, but the words seemed to be eluding the Grand Moff this time.

Krennic looked in worry at the other man.

“Governor, it is clear you are not feeling well. I will come back to discuss our deal once more when you are… in better control of yourself. You were right, I should not have interrupted your resting time without a warning, you must be really tired.” Spoke Orson calmly.

He did not know why or how he managed to completely reign in his raging emotions in that moment. Maybe Tarkin was rubbing off on him. All he knew was that he both wanted to stay and make sure the Grand Moff was alright, but also knew he had to leave the proud man to let him recollect himself.

He waited so long to have Wilhuff he could wait a few more days.

Tarkin only nodded in acknowledgment, but besides the gesture he remained silent. Krennic could tell that he was observing him with some level of surprise and disbelief, but there was also tiredness and a certain amount of gratitude in his icy eyes.

Orson smiled in a friendly way and nodding his head at the other left the room.

Only after he reached his own quarters did he realized he left his cape at Tarkin’s.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be getting it back and he had plenty of others to use till then.

Right now what was more important was planning a new strategy. He had to analyze his own feelings and what is was that he truly wanted from Wilhuff Tarkin.

 

***

 

Wilhuff was sitting in his armchair, sipping the drink he started on when his meeting with Krennic began. He could not believe what happened. How could he let himself become so broken that he would show such weakness to someone like Krennic.

More importantly… Why did the Director act the way he did?

Tarkin expected him to take advantage, use the opportunity presented to him on a silver platter. He could have found out so many things about the Grand Moff, acquire more material to blackmail him. Krennic could simply act like any other power hungry Imperial.

Yet he did not.

And this was the question that kept haunting Wilhuff since the other left.

_Wilhuff…_

He growled softly at his own behavior. Tarkin hated that he could not stop thinking about the Director. The soft way his spoke to him to calm him down, how he caressed his skin.

But mostly he could not forget the kiss. Because besides awakening some memories, the kiss also did something much more damaging.

It ignited desire in Wilhuff.

He shivered in both delight and disgust as he remembered those full lips on his, how that sneaky, hungry tongue mapped out his mouth. The sounds Krennic made only made him flush at just remembering them. But despite the kiss being greedy and rather passionate on the Director’s side, there was something else that threw Tarkin off and provoked his breakdown.

It was the hand holding.

Ver used to do that. She used to intertwine their fingers together, making their palms slot perfectly. It caused her immense happiness. It was strange, because their hands were the complete opposites. His were thin and long fingered, bony. Ver had a natural softness to hers, a chubbiness, her fingers much more round and shorter than Tarkin’s. Yet, they somehow did fit together.

_See Wil? We fit so well together, don’t we?_

But they didn’t in the end, did they? Because she betrayed him.

Anakin’s hand never fit his. It was much bigger than Tarkin’s, even when the Sith was still a young Jedi. It always enveloped Wilhuff’s smaller and much more delicate hands. But he didn’t mind. It felt good, this warm embrace around his cold skin. On the other hand, it often felt as suffocating as Vader’s presence. Nowadays his lover’s palm was enormous compared to his. If the Sith were to take his hand in his, it would fully vanish, hidden in the dark material of Vader’s gloves.

But Krennic’s hand with his fingers around his… It was like a mix between Ver’s and Vader’s. It was…

“Perfect.” He whispered in realization.

It was different from his, yet similar enough. As much as he hated to admit it, he preferred to be honest with himself. And right now he realized that the Director’s hand felt like that of an equal.

_Because deep down you know that you also need to let go sometimes of this iron control of yours_.

His heart beat faster.

Could it be that despite every instinct telling him no, Krennic was actually right? Was that what he was really looking for? Someone to just take care of him, instead of him having all the control…

Could he really do that? He didn’t even let Anakin that close.

His head felt heavy, both from what happened and the drink. But despite feeling tired, both emotionally and physically, he got up and went to his desk on swaying legs.

Once he reached it, he opened a secret compartment that would only open once the mechanism recognized his genetic material.

With trembling fingers he took out an old, wooden box. It was craved beautifully with care and love. The patterns that run all the way around it curled into vines, full of little leaves and flowers. He gripped the box harder.

_I made it myself. I just… I know you still enjoy exchanging traditional, paper letters. Now you can keep them in the box. Or just your collection of holovids. Do you like it Wilhuff?_

_I love it Ver._

It was a gift from her for his birthday.

He never used it back then. Wilhuff was too scared to damage the precious gift he was given by the one he cherished. It stood on his bedside table, next to her picture.

_Silly Wil, it’s not made of sugar. You know I won’t mind if you scratch it up a little._

No, it wasn’t. It was made of a beautiful, dark piece of wood. Strong. Durable.

He wanted to burn it the moment he found out about her betrayal. But something stopped him. Against his own judgement, he destroyed everything that reminded him of Ver, except for the box. Tarkin remembered just lying on his bed, his eyes read from crying as he traced the cravings on the gift.

When the first letter arrived he also wanted to destroy it. Wilhuff did not need consoling or explanations. He just wanted her to leave him alone.

But his heart yearned for her and so he kept the letter. He put it in that box he was holding right now, his last remaining possession connected with the woman who broke his heart.

He hid all the letters in there.

Now, still holding onto the wooden treasure, he heavily sat down on his desk chair. His fingers were trembling as he opened the box slowly.

They were all in pristine condition, just as untouched as when Tarkin put them in there.

“I need to face this. I will not be haunted by the echo of love long past. The past needs to stay… in the past.” He whispered to the empty room.

With those words, he started reading the letters, starting from that first one.

 

***

 

_My Dearest Wil,_

_I do not ask you to forgive me. I deserve your hate and disgust. This letter is not to make excuses for myself. I just wish to tell you that it was nothing that you did. It was my fault._

_You know that I have grown up at the orphanage. I had no family, no friends, no one. You were the only one in my life Wilhuff._

_You also know that I had to work to be able to support myself. Of course you do, we fought about it a lot after all. It was my pride that destroyed everything in the end._

_I did not wish to worry you. My situation went from manageable to terrible once I lost my job. If I wanted to keep studying and working, I had to find a place to work at that would give me the ability to do that. Sadly, I could not find one._

_Luck, or rather bad luck as the situation now proves, had that I met with a very rich man. Turned out I was just his type. I never expected that my life would end in me having to sell my own body to survive. At first I thought nothing of it, it was just a body after all, right? You told me so many times that it is the mind and the soul that make a person._

_Oh, how wrong you were Wil._

_Maybe for a man it is so. But for a woman, especially in my situation…_

_I felt disgusted with myself. I wanted cut off my skin after he touched me. I kept scrubbing it in the shower until the water turned blood red._

_I didn’t want to taint you with my filth. So I started to withdraw. I kept my distance._

_I loved you so much, I could not bear to see the disgust in your eyes if you found out that I betrayed you, but also in such degrading way._

_I know you saw us that night in the alley. I saw the look in your eyes. It will haunt me till my dying days._

_The man that was paying me for my body… He proposed. I am sure you heard of the Loren family from Naboo. They are rather influential._

_I knew that you would not want to see or even hear from me ever again after what you saw. So I agreed. There was nothing left for me here._

_I am sorry Wil. I hope one day you will forgive me. Please, be safe._

_With love,_

_Your Ver_

***

 

_Dearest Wilhuff,_

_I do not know if you read my other letters or not. Although I would not be surprised if you didn’t. I understand. I do not know how I would behave in your place. Probably in the same way._

_I still love you. I never stopped. I just knew that I was not the one for you. I have already been broken when we met. You did not need someone who would stop you and your brilliant mind._

_I hear that you are creating a name for yourself. I am so proud of you._

_I wish you would at least write to me once. Tell me to stop bothering you, or tell me you forgive me, something…_

_Anything but this terrible silence._

_Yours,_

_Ver_

 

***

 

_Dear Wilhuff,_

_I’m pregnant. But I am already 4 months into pregnancy, which means that the child does not belong to my current husband. The only other person I slept with, the one I gave my virginity to, was you Wil._

_This child, whether you like it or not, is yours._

_I wish you were here Wil. I miss you so badly._

_I need you._

_Ver_

 

***

 

_Dear Wilhuff,_

_Our daughter is the most beautiful creature in the Galaxy. You should hear her laugh. It sounds like little bells tinkling._

_She has your beautiful eyes and those sharp Tarkin cheekbones._

_Of course I had to agree to tell everyone she is my husband’s and was given the surname Loren._

_But the most important thing is that I know she is yours. I have a part of you now with me Wilhuff. And as much as I hate it, I will selfishly guard the last part of our love, this precious gift it has given me._

_I truly wish you could be here with us. I am sure you would have loved her._

_I am still not decided on her name._

_Maybe… You would like to name her?_

_With love,_

_Ver & your daughter_

 

***

 

_Dear Wilhuff,_

_Elibeth is already 5. How time flies, eh?_

_It saddens me that you still haven’t answered any of my letters. While I do understand the hate you might feel towards me, I hoped that at least our daughter would get the chance to meet her real father._

_She reminds me so much of you. Eli has the same mannerism as you did, so long ago. Do you still mess with your hair Wil? Because she does it on daily basis, especially when she knows she did something she shouldn’t._

_I wonder if you were such troublemaker at her age._

_Eli also seemed to have inherited your intelligence. She observes people and notices things. She knows my husband is not her father. She could tell from the way he acts around her._

_Do not worry, our daughter is safe. I will let no harm come to her from the man I married._

_With love,_

_Ver & Eli_

 

 

***

 

_I do not know why I am even writing to you again. You do not deserve it. You do not deserve me still loving you after all those years, after ignoring me for so long like a coward._

_Elibeth… My precious, little Eli…_

_She had an accident while riding her gualama. The doctors said she didn’t feel any pain._

_I can’t find a place for myself. We buried her 3 days ago. Her coffin was so small…_

_How could you?! How could you ignore your own daughter for so long?!_

_Now she is gone… She is never coming back._

_I hope you are proud of yourself Wilhuff Tarkin._

_You are a heartless man and I hate you._

 

***

 

_Dear Sir Tarkin,_

_My name is Irinyas. I was the personal maid of Lady Ver._

_I am writing to inform you of the Lady’s passing. She could no longer take the death of her little Lady Elibeth and poisoned herself._

_Before her death, she made me promise that I would inform you of her apology._

_She did not mean the words she said in her last letter. Pain and grief were clouding her world and she took it out on you Sir._

_She wanted to tell you that she still loved you and forgave you._

_Lady Ver said she will take care of Lady Elibeth up in the stars._

_My condolences Sir. From what I understood, you two used to be very close once. I hope one day you may see each other again._

_Respectfully,_

_Irinyas_

 

***

The last letter fell from his trembling fingers. He looked with tears at the photographs attached to some of the letters, now spread on his desk.

There was Ver with Elibeth right after birth. Then with the little one learning to walk. Another one with his daughter in a pretty dress, with flowers in her hair, laughing at the camera in the Naboo sun.

He choked on a sob.

“What have I done…” He whispered in a broken voice.

Tarkin reached for the picture where Ver was smiling softly with Eli in her arms. He traced both of their faces reverently. She looked so radiant in this photo, so perfectly with the child. And his daughter… What a precious thing she was. Elibeth clearly took after the Tarkins.

“I am so sorry… By the stars, forgive me… Oh Ver…” He lamented as he clutched the photography.

All he had to do was read that first letter. He would have forgiven her in an instant, go and take her away from Lord Loren. And to also think she was so close all this time, on Naboo of all places.

The same place where Anakin and Padme met. And they had children. Two in fact.

Wilhuff looked once more at the past that he could no longer go back to. His love and child were gone. He didn’t even get to meet Elibeth.

How fleeting was life indeed. To think one could lose everything so fast. He didn't wish this kind of misery on anyone. 

With a painful heart he kept caressing the photography.

He knew what he needed to do.

Pushing the button on his personal communication system, he spoke in a controlled and calm voice.

“Admiral Motti, inform Grand Admiral Thrawn that I wish to speak with him about an important matter. Possibly on his ship.”

“Of course Sir, right away. Is there anything else I can do for you Governor?” Spoke Conan with clear enthusiasm in his voice.

Tarkin smiled despite himself. That man was truly loyal.

“No, that will be all Admiral.”

With that, the conversation was cut short. Wilhuff got up from the chair, gathering all the letters and photographs back into the box. But this time he did not hide it. Instead, he left it on the desk for now, intending to take it to his bedroom later.

Something caught his eye. He finally noticed the cape Krennic left in his rooms.

He approached the white material and lifted it from the floor gently. It wasn’t as heavy as Vader’s dark one. Instead, it felt almost like a bed sheet with how light it was.

“Truly, this man is impossible.” He whispered as he looked over the garment.

Suddenly, some uncontrollable instinct caused him to bring the cape closer to his face. It appeared so soft to the touch that Tarkin wanted to see it up close. But then his nose caught a soft aroma of… was that mimosa and cotton? Such a strange yet pleasant combination.

Once more, his body seemed to be separated from his mind because he brought the material straight to his face, feeling its softness on his cheeks as he inhaled the smell deeply this time. Closing his eyes tiredly Tarkin sighed.

“Well, at least his fragrance sense is much better than his fashion sense.” He spoke to himself.

He was so tired he did not even question his unusual behavior or why he took the cape along with the box to his bedroom.


	6. Follow The Silver Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language.
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter (if I don't forget, lol).
> 
> My tumblr: www.fat-fish-in-space.tumblr.com (hit me up there, don't be shy)
> 
> ***
> 
> LOAM updated, the end of the world in nigh! 
> 
> Anyways, this time the chapter is a little shorter than usually, but it is still something, right? ^^"

_He felt weightless and heavy at the same time. Wilhuff was hyper-aware of his body, every little part of it. And yet… Yet he felt as if he was looking at himself from the side, like a spectator watching a show unfolding before him._

_Tarkin’s current form looked young. Much younger than he currently was. This form… It reminded him of something. Something important…_

_Everything around him was black, a void of darkness. But at the same time a shower of silver, glittering powder was raining all around him._

_When he stepped into its softness Wilhuff realized he was naked._

_It was like being born anew, everything seemed to become fascinating in its simplest form, even when there wasn’t much too look at._

_“Wil…” Came a soft whisper from somewhere._

_Almost lazily he turned around, trying to find the source of the voice. It sounded so familiar. He wanted to know who was calling him, yet, he also felt an unusual calm, not hurrying in his quest._

_“Wil…”_

_A light in the distance shone before him, in a shape of a person. Captivated by its warm glow he mindlessly walked towards it, reaching out with his hand, a shy smile spreading over his face._

_The distance appeared to be short at first, but it felt like forever has passed before Tarkin finally reached his destination._

_“Wil…” Said the light, now clearly in a young woman’s voice._

_“Ver…” He started._

_But then darkness swallowed all suddenly, the glow, the glittering dust gone in a span of a moment, taking Wilhuff with it._

 

***

 

_He was older now and much more aware of the things around him. The world lost some of its charm, the beautiful scenery around him not truly a focus of his attention. His thoughts were drifting as the clouds in the grey sky above him._

_Wilhuff gazed indifferently at the sparkling lake, the grass and flowers swaying softly in the wind._

_It all looked bleak, as if someone took most of the color out of this world. It was breathtaking in its own, melancholic way. But there was also something that made chills run down his spine, something dark and foreboding._

_“Wilhuff.”_

_This voice sounded much closer than the previous one. He gazed to his side and noticed a young man sitting a few steps away from him._

_The other returned his stare. Somehow, Wilhuff wasn’t able to notice or remember anything about the man besides his strange eyes._

_One was a blue storm, the other a golden circle._

_But what was in those eyes?_

_Something else caught his attention. The silver dust from before was back, falling softly around them. But its previous shine was much weaker now, almost blending with the grey surroundings._

_“Wilhuff.” Said the man again._

_He didn’t answer him. But there was a name on his tongue that felt forbidden for some reason. As if even thinking about it would bring about a catastrophe._

_“Foolish boy.” Came from his lips, a whisper so soft that it shouldn’t even be heard._

_But his companion reacted to the words, something wicked entering his eyes._

_Now both of them were shining like golden coins._

_“Are you?” He asked Tarkin._

_His cruel laugh was the only thing he registered as he was drowned in the silver dust._

 

***

 

_Tarkin finally looked his current age, but his surroundings changed once more._

_But he did not know where he was._

_Dark, smoldered land and rivers of molting lava surrounded him, their fires hissing with danger. Wilhuff saw that he stood on a single, black rock, surrounded by the deadly waters._

_There was no silver glitter this time around._

_He looked at the sky, but only saw darkness created by smoke._

_“My One.”_

_His body became tense at those words, their sounds curling possessively around him. It felt like shackles, like ownership._

_A great, dark shadow stood on the bank of the fiery river, observing him with its hidden eyes. Tarkin realized it wanted to reach him, but the moment it stepped into the lava, smoke rose and it would retreat instantly, hissing in pain._

_It could not touch him, even if it wanted to._

_“My One.” Repeated the shadow._

_Wilhuff tilted his head, listening, but realized he was losing focus slowly. Something was wrong. He felt like he was suffocating. Tarkin wanted to scream, to answer. But when he opened his mouth no sound came out._

_“Come to me.” Came the command._

_He felt his own feet start to move towards the dangerous liquid, mindless of the impending doom. Inside, some rational part of him was screaming in fear, in protest, in defiance. He knew that if he stepped into the river, he would be swallowed by its flames._

_Just as his foot was about to submerge in it, he looked up at the shadow._

_He saw red, burning eyes gazing at him, consuming him._

_A single silver flake drifted past him and fell into the lava, burning up instantly._

 

***

 

_Soft lips were pressed against his, not demanding, but giving. A hand threaded through his hair, another on his waist, bringing him flush to his clearly male partner._

_Wilhuff’s eyes were closed, yet he could see._

_And he saw light, white and blinding. It was warm, but also cooled his overheated skin._

_He was naked once more, yet his age remained unchanged._

_When Tarkin felt precious air fill his lungs he knew the kiss ended._

_“Please…” Came the desperate words, so soft, so broken._

_He did not understand. What were they asking for?_

_Such need. He never heard it before._

_“Please…” Pleaded the other, hands grasping his face delicately, as if afraid to hurt him._

_They were nice, big, warm hands. Wilhuff sighed, his eyes still closed. He felt safe._

_“Please what?” He asked, finally opening them._

_He saw a sea of blue._

_“Look only at me.”_

_The silver dust was everywhere and it shined brilliantly._

 

***

 

Tarkin wondered about the strangeness of his dream and its meaning as he flew towards Thrawn’s ship. Or rather, he tried. He could not fully remember it. There was one thing that stood out to him the most and it was the silver dust. What could it mean? It seemed to have some significance, especially since it burned so strongly in his mind. But for the life of him he could not decipher its meaning, especially without having the rest of the pieces of his dream puzzle.

“Sir, we are arriving.” Spoke the pilot over the speakers.

The Grand Moff thanked him curtly, watching from the window as they slowly flew into the maw of Thrawn’s ship, landing softly. He needed to find out which of his pilots was so talented, it was one of the most pleasant flights he had so far.

Of course Thrawn was already there to greet him. Wilhuff could see in his posture and face, usually so well controlled, that the Chiss was very curious about his request for a meeting out of blue. His red eyes shone brightly, the animalistic danger Tarkin sometimes noticed in them now at the front. Of course he heard the stories about Thrawn. Around the Empire he was known as the only non-human to reach such a high rank due to his brilliance in destroying the enemy. But there were also murmurs, gossip that no one could miss. That Thrawn’s reputation was well earned, that the man relished in crushing down the Rebellion. He was as cruel as he was brilliant when he wanted to, excelling both in mind and body.

He was one that you wanted as an ally in the Empire, not an enemy.

“Grand Moff Tarkin. Welcome aboard my ship. I hope it will hold up to your standards.” Spoke Thrawn slowly, calmly, despite the clear excitement in his gaze.

Tarkin felt a smile pull at his lips against his will. There was something about the Chiss that made him feel a little more grounded, like he was back to himself, especially after all that happened lately. Maybe it was the game they played, the one they both knew existed between them, but was never outright mentioned. Wilhuff could do that. He could go back to plotting, to getting the upper hand over others. The Grand Moff knew he needed this, to go back to his old self, if he wanted to regain any order in his chaotic life.

“Grand Admiral, I am sure there is not a thing out of place. We both know how particularly… firm you are about things that surround you.” He answered, rising an eyebrow.

Thrawn’s eyes danced in amusement and he chuckled lowly.

“But of course… Please Grand Moff, follow me. We will discuss whatever you want in my office.” Said the Chiss, indicating with his hand for Tarkin to join him.

Wilhuff inclined his head in agreement and they both started their journey to Thrawn’s office.

_More like his art sanctuary_. Thought Tarkin, already having been a guest of the Chiss’ personal office, knowing very well how it looked.

Also having to suffer through the infamous tour.

He just hoped Thrawn didn’t acquire anything new.

 

***

 

They were sitting comfortably in the office, Thrawn behind his desk, Tarkin in front of it. Despite his initial fear, the Chiss did not in fact acquire anything new for his art collection, which he lamented about on the way to the room.

Wilhuff actually breathed a mental sigh of relief. For once something was going his way.

“Well then, Tarkin. What brings you all the way here? To my territory?”

There was curiosity in that question, but also a warning. Thrawn wanted him to know how isolated he was here and, despite his position in the Empire, he should not try anything _stupid_.

He just narrowed his eyes a little in response to the obvious threat, his lips pinched hard. Wilhuff looked at the drink in his hand. The Grand Moff had to give the Chiss some bonus points, he certainly knew what Tarkin liked. It was even his favorite brand.

Very suspicious.

“It’s a very delicate matter. I must have you swear that what I tell you in this room doesn’t leave it and stays between us.” Spoke Tarkin slowly, gauging the other’s reaction.

Thrawn looked at him for a moment in silence. Wilhuff knew he was already analyzing all the possible outcomes and possibilities that this situation provided, thinking how to use them for his own gain.

They weren’t that different in that regard after all.

“What do I get out of this? You understand the risk I am taking, just doing this blindly without knowing the topic of conversation.” Spoke Thrawn lowly, all business like, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair.

Tarkin nodded. He understood the other’s reluctance. The way Wilhuff was behaving must have seemed very out of character and shady to the Grand Admiral, which would hint that the Grand Moff wanted something that could endanger the Empire, which they both swore to serve with their lives.

But Tarkin had something that he knew Thrawn wanted, something that would assure his cooperation.

“Whatever you want.” Said Wilhuff shortly, looking at the Chiss meaningfully.

Thrawn’s eyes actually widened in shock. Of course he knew that what Tarkin offered was not a gift to look at lightly. Having the Grand Moff himself in your debt, willing to do anything you asked. Such opportunity almost never presented itself. And now it was laid out before one of the people who were very much after such delicious treat.

“Oh? Then I suppose it is a truly important matter to you, if you are willing to offer… _that_.” Said Thrawn, looking Wilhuff up and down shamelessly.

Tarkin’s gaze became like steel, warning Thrawn that despite his offer the other better not overstep some boundaries. At the same time he knew that he was ready to give anything really, even his own body, if it meant that his plan would end in success.

“Well? Are you willing to hear me out Thrawn, or should I show myself to the door?” He asked tightly, getting ready for rejection and already thinking of alternatives.

But Thrawn actually surprised him when he chuckled and smiled at him.

It wasn’t a pleasant smile.

“Please, Wilhuff. What troubles you and how may I help you?” Asked the Chiss with a purr in his voice.

Tarkin’s hands tightened into fists. So that’s how it was going to be. Well then, if Thrawn wanted familiarity like this, then he wouldn’t complain.

“Am I to understand you agree to my terms? You swear not to breath a word of this to anyone?” Pressed the Grand Moff, needing an actual answer to seal the deal.

Thrawn titled his head to the side as if fascinated by something he was seeing in Tarkin’s face.

“You are very different than the last time we met… Yes, nothing will leave this room, I promise this on my honor.”

Wilhuff nodded, relaxing a little, feeling as if a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. He didn’t let his guard down of course, but now he finally could move forward with his plan.

“And the price for you cooperation?” He questioned hesitantly.

Thrawn only smiled a little wider. He reached for his own drink, taking a sip and making a pleased noise at the taste. His smoldering, red eyes lifted to Tarkin’s.

“That we can discuss later. Now, tell me what I can do for you.”

Tarkin expected as much. He wouldn’t be surprised if Thrawn simply waited for an opportune moment to use the debt Wilhuff had against him in the future. Such was the way of the Empire. Favors weren’t something to give out lightly, especially unspecified ones. But Tarkin’s situation called for desperate measures and he was ready for the sacrifice and consequences following his decision.

“Some time ago I have come across information that Lord Vader used to be married when he was younger. His wife died while pregnant with twins. The children were believed to be dead, but apparently it was a lie to keep them away from their father. Now, the current location and status of both in unknown right now. But I have my… sources, let’s say. I believe one of the children could be on Tatooine, which used to be Vader’s home planet when he was a child himself. They should be in their late teens, going by the surname Skywalker. For reasons I cannot reveal even to you, I cannot go there myself to find and take the child back to its father. Which is why I am asking you to aid me in this and bring the young Skywalker back to their proper place, beside their father, back to the Empire. The child could already be very powerful in the Force and if they fall into the Rebellions hands we would be facing a very serious problem. You understand now why this must be kept a secret? No one must find out about this, especially Vader, at least not until the child is within our grasp. Who knows what would happen if he went on a mad search for it, or if someone unfortunate were to find out of its existence.”

Tarkin’s words were calm despite the thundering of his heart and the blood rushing to his head. He was taking a great risk telling Thrawn this, for various reasons. But he had to, he had to do it for Vader.

No. He had to do it for Anakin.

The silence in the room stretched. Thrawn was thinking deeply about the secrets unveiled before him, his gaze locked on his half emptied drink, standing on the desk. Tarkin didn’t interrupt him, knowing that it would change nothing. Now that the cards were in the open Thrawn could do anything and Wilhuff wouldn’t be able to stop it.

Wanting to distract himself and calm his racing mind, the Grand Moff looked around the room. He actually enjoyed the art Thrawn collected and found pleasure in absorbing new knowledge. The problem was that the Grand Admiral acted like a child on their birthday, wanting to show off every gift they got, pattering nonsense about them and their adoration for the received goods.

His icy eyes landed on something that he disregarded the last time he saw Thrawn’s collection. It was a small piece, a bracelet with some coat of arms on it.

It was silver, with little stones glittering like stardust.

But its simplicity and beauty were not what took Tarkin’s breath away.

It was the name elegantly engraved into it.

_Loren_.

“Hmmm… I must say Wilhuff, when you informed me of your wish to talk I did not expect such… unusual news. It truly is fascinating that someone like Vader used to actually be controlled enough to sire two children. Honestly, I never understood his appeal. In fact, I find it strange that anyone would want to be with someone as unpleasant and barbarian as him…” Said Thrawn, the last sentence clearly meant for Tarkin personally.

He forgot about the bracelet instantly. So he was right, Vader’s behavior did expose them and now the Chiss also knew about their relationship.

Well, no matter, this wouldn’t change a thing. If Thrawn wanted to use that knowledge against either one of them he would have done it ages ago. But Tarkin could hear the note of disgust and cruelty in the man’s voice as he looked at the Grand Moff imploringly, wanting him to correct him.

But Wilhuff said nothing to the bait. He wasn’t here for that.

He was here to give his lover something that he himself was robbed of without his knowledge, just like Vader was.

A child, a family. His very own flesh and blood.

“Will you help me then? Or should I look for someone else?” He asked, not wanting to make the meeting longer than necessary.

Thrawn nodded slowly.

“Of course. It shouldn’t be a problem. It is quiet an easy task, but I understand why you came to me with it. It requires subtlety and secrecy, things that most people in the Empire sadly lack. I actually should be in the sector where Tatooine is located soon, I will just pick the child up on my way back. Should I deliver them straight to you?”

Tarkin answered instantly.

“Yes. Make sure no one sees them. I do not want someone who knew Vader back in the days to recognize his child, due to similarities. It could have a disastrous effect.”

Thrawn stood up from his chair, walking around the desk slowly. He was in no hurry, knowing he had the upper hand right now.

“Very well then. I suppose this concludes our meeting?” He said as he stopped next to Wilhuff, his steps so quiet they didn’t make any sound.

Like a predator concerning their prey.

Tarkin didn’t look up at the Chiss, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing him in such submissive position. The Grand Moff stood up himself, his gaze only moving to the Grand Admiral’s when he turned to face him. Wilhuff extended his hand, wanting to officially seal their agreement.

“Yes. Thank you for your assistance. I will await any news you might have on the subject. Please, inform me as soon as something turns up.” He said emotionlessly, waiting for the Chiss to make his move.

But Thrawn’s eyes suddenly sparked dangerously and before Wilhuff could react, a strong, blue hand grasped his, yanking him close to the other. He looked in surprise at the bold behavior and their close proximity, feeling the Chiss’ cold breath on his face. Crimson eyes were gazing into his, a smirk gracing Thrawn’s lips.

“Remember Wilhuff. You owe me.” Purred out Thrawn lowly.

He moved fast, like a striking snake, placing his lips over Tarkin’s. It was a short contact, but Wilhuff could swear he could feel Thrawn’s body vibrate from the deep rumble that came from his chest at finally getting the kiss he always wanted to steal. As they parted Tarkin could only watch quietly as the Grand Admiral licked his lips, as if savoring a rare delicacy, his focus completely on the Grand Moff. Despite himself, Wilhuff felt his cheeks color red slightly.

“Oh, how I look forward to calling on that favor, Wilhuff.” He said with a promise in his voice.

Tarkin only nodded, clearing his throat, a little breathless despite how quick and soft was the kiss. He felt lightheaded.

“I am sure you are. Now, if you could release me Thrawn, I would be very thankful. I still need to get back to my ship.” He said, trying to look anywhere but at the Chiss.

The blue hand left his pale one and he took a deeper breath than probably needed.

With a nod to each other, another smirk and once-over from Thrawn, Tarkin could finally leave.

 

***

 

“You didn’t have to kiss him, you know?” Spoke a clearly angry voice behind him as the doors closed after Tarkin left.

Thrawn smiled, pleased, as he turned around to face his lover.

“Maximilian, how rude of you to listen to people’s private conversations. It does not suit you.” He said in jest, watching in pleasure as the other’s eyes darkened even more.

Veers sneered at him inelegantly, his teeth showing. He didn't look too appealing. And yet, Thrawn could not help but find him attractive like this, when he let go and showed the beast that he hid inside, that he only let out on the battlefield and during sex.

How strange that he was also attracted to Tarkin, who was Veers’ walking opposite.

Thrawn was no fool. He knew an actual relationship with the Grand Moff was out of his reach, especially with Vader in the way. At first he we deeply dissatisfied with this, but then he met Max. Veers was like a tightly coiled snake, ready to bite at any given moment. He was brilliant and handsome, and actually managed to impress the Chiss with his achievements, a feat not done easily.

Initially Thrawn was going to treat him as another fling, a way to let go of some tension.

But then he realized that he enjoyed spending time with Veers more and more, that he felt mentally challenged by the other, something that only happened with a few people. He was also fascinated with how someone with such a severe look could turn into a bloodthirsty hound in a matter of seconds. It made chills race down his spine, keeping Max on his toes when it came to their relationship. Thrawn knew he was playing with fire this way, but watching the jealousy on the other’s face gave him an unusual thrill and managed to awaken his own, more animalistic side. Veers was danger personified and he wanted to dance with that danger.

And the make-up sex was usually mind-blowing.

“Thrawn.” Snapped Veers finally.

He only smirked, licking his lips slowly. Thrawn saw Max following the movement with both anger and desire coiling in his eyes.

“Come on Maximilian, surely you have thought of doing this yourself at some point? After all, Tarkin is one of the most sought after man in the Empire, and it’s not just because he is smarter than almost everyone. That kind of man is… _very desirable_.” He purred out, licking his lips once more for emphasis, his eyes glowing.

Veers growled and in a few steps he was standing next to Thrawn. His hands reached to catch the front of the Chiss’ uniform, gripping it tightly. Max yanked the taller man closer to himself and smashed their lips together. Thrawn smirked into the kiss, enjoying how riled up his lover got, how jealous and possessive he was. The primal part of him truly appreciated this kind of behavior from Max.

He was about to deepen the kiss when Veers let go, making a disgusted face. He glared at Thrawn.

“What is the matter?” Panted the Chiss, unhappy that their make-out session was being interrupted.

“You taste like him!” Hissed out Max, letting go of Thrawn and turning around to leave.

Something in Thrawn snapped when he saw the other turn his back on him. With quick movements he gripped the walking man’s hand and, reminiscent of what he did with Tarkin just moments ago, spun him back around and forced Veers to slam into his chest. His lover only glared some more.

“I will not kiss you when you taste like another man.” Said Max angrily.

Thrawn growled in challenge, feeling himself become hard at the way Veers was denying him.

“Then make sure I don’t taste like him.” He said lowly, in a dark tone burning with desire.

Maximilian didn’t need another invitation. This times their lips slammed hungrily together and Thrawn knew that it would be hours before they left his office.

He didn’t mind at all.


	7. Only You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No BETA.
> 
> English is not my first language.
> 
> Tags/warnings/rating will be updated with each chapter.
> 
> *** 
> 
> Local Fic Writer Finally Posts A Long Awaited Update To The Shock Of Readers Who Lost All Hope Ages Ago
> 
> SO, GUESS WHO IS BACK?
> 
> Ok, so a little info: Krennic is still not back in this chapter. I know, I'm sorry to all the Tarkrennic shippers, but I promise that the next chapter will be mostly dedicated to Krennic, so don't worry, he will be back to swoop Tarkin off his feet.

Tattooine was such an unpleasant planet. Dry and hot, it was everything Thrawn detested. He was sweating, trying very hard to maintain his composure, hoping nobody noticed his weakness when it came to the scorching heat. He was already on the radar of every Officer due to being an alien species within a human dominated Emprie. The Grand Admiral had no need to give them more reason to gossip and run to the Emperor to tell him Thrawn was unfit for his role.

Veers on the other hand seemed ecstatic about the whole trip. It made his eye twitch in irritation at the man’s good mood while he suffered in silence.

“Finally some warmth! Why they keep the stations and ships always so cold, I will never understand” Said the General as he walked alongside his lover with a content smile.

Thrawn snorted inelegantly, only ever allowing Veers to see this wilder, more primal side of him.

“I quiet enjoy the cold. It gives the opportunity for warming up in more… _pleasant ways_.” Purred out the man, his red eyes gleaming as they gazed at the other with clear intent.

Max’s cheeks colored a little, but he still glared at Thrawn.

“Don’t think you can butter me up with your pretty words, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. I am still pissed at you for that stunt you pulled with Tarkin.” Snarled the General, his face now scowling unpleasantly, looking straight ahead.

Thrawn winced at the anger he heard in his lover’s voice. Veers only called him by his real name for two reasons. Usually, he would do it when he was being really affectionate, almost always while cuddling after sex. Or when Thrawn managed to surprise him with some pleasant gift, an expensive alcohol from a faraway world, or something to… spice up their sex life.

But then there was another reason Max would use his full name and it was when he was truly angry with him, even furious. It didn’t happen often. Of course they had their differences, but usually it was more of them butting heads and getting worked up, which led to some intense sex. But when Veers was cross with him, really cross with him… Then he would call him Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

It was one of those times and Thrawn knew he was fucked.

“Come on Max. You know it meant nothing.” He said lowly, trying to placate the other man a little.

But the General’s mood was sour now and it didn’t seem like anything would change it.

“Nothing? Then why the kriff would you even do it? What was the point?” He whispered hotly.

While the other Officers and Stormtroopers were too far behind them to hear anything, they still didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk so loudly about such private matters. Thrawn was thankful for it. This way Max couldn’t go all out on him and cause a scene. And he could do that. For such a stoic man, he sometimes surprised the Grand Admiral with the level of dramatics he would go to when angered.

“It’s a tactic, my dear. You know that Tarkin is involved with Vader, right? It seems as if there is some… tension between them as of late. If Wilhuff is considering switching his allies then I am more than happy to use any means possible to secure his loyalty.” Answered Thrawn patiently.

“Even if it means acting like a complete slut?” Scoffed Max, still not looking at him.

The Chiss smirked, actually amused by his lover. Was the fearless General pouting?

“My, my, we both know who is the real slut here, don’t we, Maximilian?” Purred Thrawn darkly, not answering the other’s question and bypassing it smoothly.

This time Veers’ cheeks became scarlet red and his startled eyes looked at the other. It was amazing to the Grand Admiral how he was the only one to cause Max to behave so seemingly out of character. Kriff, the man wasn’t even afraid of Vader, he saw their interactions and it was one of the reasons he was so attracted to him in the first place. He almost burst out laughing at Max’s scandalized look.

“You kriffing-” Started the General but got cut off when someone bumped right into him.

It was a matter of seconds. Veers fell to the ground with an undignified sound escaping his lips as the young man… no, a boy really, fell down with a surprised shriek. Thrawn couldn’t even help his lover and could only watch as the man hit the sandy earth hard. The Grand Admiral winced, almost feeling the painful impact himself. He turned to look at the cause of the disturbance. Thrawn was about to snap at the boy, but something stopped him.

The Chiss was known to collect as much information about his enemies and allies alike as he could. It was the best tactic, knowledge. Knowledge could be stored away easily and was hard to get rid of, almost impossible to do so actually. And when the right moment struck it was just delightful to watch others struggle as Thrawn brought up every little secret of theirs to the surface, knowing he had them in the palm of his hand.  

This was why, when he gazed at the carbon copy of Anakin Skywalker, more widely known as Darth Vader now, he stopped in shock. He did not expect to find the boy they were looking for so fast, kriff, he wasn’t even expecting to find him on this planet. Yet, here he was and the Chiss knew for certain it was the son of the Sith, the picture of young Vader from his Jedi days provided by Tarkin still fresh in his mind’s eye. The only difference were the light blond tresses and the impossibly huge, crystal blue eyes. Who would have thought Vader’s kid would look so… innocent.

“I am so sorry Sir, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” Started to apologize the boy as he struggled to his feet, fear clear in his eyes, which focused mostly on Thrawn.

Of course, the boy probably never saw a Chiss before, considering how much of a jerkwater planet Tattooine was. Thrawn knew what effect he had on humans the first time they saw him. The blue skin, the red, piercing eyes that sometimes glowed… He was like a walking nightmare for them. The Grand Admiral didn’t mind this. His looks were useful to him, even if he used them in the most basic way as an intimidation tactic. While he found it distasteful and below him, he had to admit that sometimes it was the only way to get those of a simpler mind to listen to him. There was still so much prejudice in the Empire, kriff, it was running on it.

The boy was now shaking a little. Thrawn followed his gaze, which moved behind him, and saw all the Officers and Stormtroopers that came with them, weapons drawn, ready to protect their superiors. A small smirk lifted the corners of his lips at the display of power. Of course, the boy would also be scared of having pissed off the Imperials. He probably heard all about what happened to those who crossed paths with the Empire and its troops.

Without a word, he turned to Veers, holding a hand out to help him up. But his lover slapped it away angrily, getting to his feet by himself. Thrawn didn’t think much of it. Max was a proud man and he knew it was nothing personal, so he just let the dismissive behavior slide.

“Boy, you are in so much trouble.” Growled out the General as he approached the now trembling blonde with a snarl on his face.

Before Veers could grab a hold of the white, worn tunic Skywalker wore, Thrawn caught his reaching hand in a light grip.

“General, please. It was a misunderstanding. I am sure Mr….?” He started looking at the boy questioningly.

He just needed two little words of confirmation.

“L-Luke S-S-Skywalker, Sir!” Responded to boy quickly, stuttering.

Thrawn smirked, seeing Max’s eyes widen in realization, his head snapping towards him fast. A look of understanding passed between them as the Grand Admiral let go of the wrist he was holding, but not before letting his thumb caress the skin under it soothingly.

“Yes, I am sure Mr. Skywalker is very sorry for bumping into a General of the Empire like this. Am I right?” Continued Thrawn, smiling pleasantly at the boy.

Luke first paled realizing exactly what he has done, but then he blushed in embarrassment, his cheeks reddening pleasantly. Thrawn had to admit, if this is what Vader looked like in his youth, it was no wonder Tarkin was head over heels for him. The Chiss watched as Skywalker nodded furiously, biting his lip nervously, clearly wanting to diffuse the situation in some way. The boy was almost… cute in his effort.

“Considering what happened, I am sure you would like to make it up to General Veers. How about showing us around this place? We are rather lost and don’t know our way around. Maybe you could recommend some pleasant establishment where we could dine?” Prompted Thrawn, walking a little closer to the boy, hoping to intimidate him even more.

Luke nodded mutely, looking into Thrawn’s red eyes as if hypnotized. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Veers roll his eyes at his behavior, but his lover remained quiet for now, trusting him to do his job.

After all, they just found what they were looking for.

 

***

 

Tarkin sat in his room, looking at the picture of Ver and Elibeth. Since his visit to Thrawn he has been doing this a lot, just staring at the two women lost to him, caressing their smiling faces. He no longer cried over them, but the tight feeling in his chest would not go away.

The Grand Moff’s thoughts also kept circling back to the bracelet he saw in Thrawn’s office. Did it belong to someone from the Loren family? Could it be that maybe… it belonged to his Ver? He needed to find out, needed to know if there was even a little thing that belonged to his lost love that could connect him to her.

But he couldn’t do much about it right now. At least not until Thrawn came back with Anakin’s child. And even then, how would he even convince the Chiss to give him the silver bracelet without rising suspicion? The Grand Admiral would not let go of his acquired possession easily, especially without a proper compensation. Wilhuff was already in the alien’s debt, he did not feel like making it even worse for himself. And stars only knew what Thrawn would want from him for his assistance with the young Skywalker.

Unconsciously, he reached with his hand towards his lips, touching them softly. He remembered the feeling of the man’s lips on his. It was a shocking experience, the sensation at once cold and hot, and intense, even for such a short contact. Wilhuff shuddered, thinking about what more Thrawn would want from him if that kiss was anything to go by. He knew the Grand Admiral would not feel any remorse, taking what he wanted from Tarkin in exchange for his help. The Grand Moff just hoped that there would be something much more desirable he could give the Chiss instead of his body.

He almost jumped when his comm link went off, breaking the silence of his rooms.

“Yes?” He questioned as he put the picture away into the box from Ver, hiding it in his desk.

“Wilhuff, I wish to speak with you. I am on my way to your chambers.” Spoke Vader’s raspy voice.

Tarkin grimaced. He really didn’t feel like dealing with the Sith right now. Especially since he was still feeling betrayed by the man, the wound fresh, even if logic told him that there was no longer any point to his anger. Amidala was dead and he was here, that was all that should matter to him. But the bad aftertaste was too strong.

And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he has been thinking about Krennic a lot too. His behavior towards him when Tarkin lost it… He shivered, the memory of Orson’s hand holding his causing a pleasant warmth to spread through his body. Of course Wilhuff wasn’t too happy about the manhandling, but then Krennic did look really good on his knees before him, his lips red, blue eyes dark with arousal…

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts, not wanting to dwell on them too deeply.

“Of course. I will make sure no one disturbs us.” Answered Tarkin finally, cutting the connection off.

He sighed tiredly, massaging his temples, feeling a headache coming.

Honestly, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone for five minutes.

 

***

 

Vader was not a patient man when he was young. Now he was a little more controlled, but his temper still shined through. He acted on his feelings too often than he would like to admit. The Sith wondered sometimes, if Anakin Skywalker truly died, or if maybe he was trying to claw his way out of him, back to the surface.

He wouldn’t let him, he had his chance.

With sure steps he walked towards Tarkin’s quarters, the need to see the man too strong to ignore. He was going to wait until Wilhuff’s schedule cleared, not wishing to inconvenience the older man who seemed cold and distant towards him as of late, but he couldn't. It frustrated him, not knowing why his lover would suddenly shy away from his touch and try to find every excuse possible to keep away from him.

He managed to break the equipment in the training chambers in a matter of seconds after their last argument.

Vader missed Wilhuff. He wanted to be close to the man who stuck with him for so long, whom he deeply loved. The Sith always believed Tarkin returned his feelings just as strongly, after all, why would he come back to him otherwise?

Vader was thankful for his lover, knowing that the Force itself must have chosen Tarkin to be his companion. As much as he loved Padmé… Well, she would have never accepted him fully, not like Wilhuff did. She betrayed him and abandoned him when he needed her the most, taking their children with her. And Obi-Wan… He loved him once too, but of course that love also wasn’t meant to be. His old Master had the Jedi’s claws so deep in him he was blind to the truth. And Vader knew, even as Anakin Skywalker, that his Master would not follow where he would go.

He hated him. Hated him for giving him hope, that maybe he could have Light and happiness, that he could have such pure love. Hated him for taking his wife and his children away from him, turning her against Vader in the crucial moment. Hated him for how he turned him into a cripple, the constant pain a remainder of his betrayal, left him to die as if he meant nothing, right after proclaiming he loved him.

No. Obi-Wan and Padmé were not the ones for him.

But Wilhuff…

The Grand Moff was exactly what he needed from the start. Someone who could help him control himself, but would not shy away from his passions and wants. Wilhuff understood Vader’s dark urges, he knew exactly how to take care of them. He was the one who kept the Sith in line, but also the one who helped him unwind, freed him from the shackles of what everyone expected of him. He was more than happy to submit to Tarkin, wholly give himself to the older man, because he knew he would get all of Wilhuff in return.

It was why he was so possessive of the man. After so much betrayal from the ones he loved, he could not stand the thought of losing him. Vader winced when he remembered what broke them apart once.

It was after he found out about Obi-Wan and Padmé wanting to stop Palpatine and their plans. Turn him back to the treacherous Light. When the Sith realized that he could no longer trust those he held so close to his heart, in a flurry of emotions he accused Tarkin in his mind of the same. Of course he went about it the wrong way, hurting the man and basically raping his mind to see the truth for himself. It was a wonder Wilhuff didn’t shoot him that day. He could and Vader would let him.

He could not stand to lose the other, even then.

His thoughts halted when he reached Tarkin’s rooms.

Vader could feel the Dark calling to him, telling him to take what was already his.

The Sith shivered with repressed desire.

 

***

 

“Tell me, why are you throwing off my whole schedule when you know this will make the Emperor unhappy?” Questioned Tarkin as he sat on his bed, looking up at the Sith with a cross look.

He took a drink from his glass, the electric blue liquid inside staining his lips. But his eyes never left the Sith, two storms threatening to swallow the man whole.

Vader didn’t say anything for a moment, just gazing at the older man quietly. He walked closer to him, towering as always. A black, gloved hand reached to touch Wilhuff’s face softly, but he moved it out of reach, grimacing.

“This. This is why I needed to see you.” Spoke Vader calmly.

But the calm was nothing more but a mask and while invisible to untrained eye, Wilhuff could see all the signs of tension and shimmering anger in his lover.

“About what?” He asked, dancing around the subject, putting his glass on the table near the bed.

Vader let out a warning rumble this time. He was clearly unhappy.

“You know what I’m talking about Wilhuff, don’t play your little games with me. I’m not that idiot Krennic.” Spoke the Sith.

Tarkin’s mind raced, for a moment thinking Vader found out about his little encounter with Orson. But then again, how would he even? As far as the Sith was concerned, Krennic and Tarkin hated each other’s guts. There was no reason why Krennic would suddenly develop feelings for him other than ones that ended with the Director stabbing him in the back.

“I honestly have no idea what you are speaking of. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and-” He said as he began to get up from the bed, a little panicked.

But before he could so much as take a step he felt an invisible force push at him, making him fall back on the plush mattress.

“Sit down and shut up for once Wilhuff!” Snarled Vader.

Tarkin was too shocked at his lover’s obvious use of the Force against him after such a long time that he just looked at the other with wide eyes in silence. Vader started to pace back and forth in the room, like a caged animal, ready to either pounce or flee.

“I have allowed for this go on for too long. You avoid me, you don’t let me touch you. I can see this strange look in your eyes every time I get close, like I have hurt you. It frustrates me beyond words Wilhuff, because I have no idea what I could have done as of late to make you react to me like this. Not only that, I will be crude, I have been so sexually frustrated for the last days that it’s influencing my work. And we both know that this could bring the Emperor’s eyes on us and we don’t want that.”

Tarkin could only listen as Vader went off, clearly finally done with him. He winced a little, knowing that it was his own fault for the Sith to behave this way. And from a certain point of view he was right too. Wilhuff forgot how insatiable his lover was and did not give him what he needed, like the Emperor himself also instructed him to do. Despite the betrayal and hurt feelings he still loved Vader too, damn him for that, and seeing the other man so frustrated and lost was causing his heart to clench painful. He had no idea that his behavior could cause such damage. It was obvious Vader’s Sith side was getting agitated with not getting what it wanted.

Then there was also the problem of Vader still believing the Emperor had no idea about them. Should he tell him? What would the Sith do then? Wilhuff worried that once feeling completely safe in their relationship Vader would flaunt it left and right. No, he couldn’t have that. People would question him on everything he has done so far and his future decisions if the Emperor’s Apprentice was fucking him. He had to keep this from his lover.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, not letting me touch you is one thing and you have done it before to punish me. Kriff, I am a little used to it, even if it is the worst feeling in the galaxy, seeing you so close and not being able to connect with you in some way. Especially since you still refuse to create a Force bond with me, stars only know why after such a long time together! And it has never been this long, it’s been weeks! But then, you not even wanting to speak with me, look at me… What have I done Wilhuff?! Please, tell me so I can fix it, I can’t bear it any longer!”

The last words were shouted, something Vader rarely did, if ever. He fell heavily to his knees before the older man, grasping his arms and staring straight up at him from his position. The Grand Moff swallowed, feeling a familiar stirring in his body, not sure if Vader was doing this intentionally or not, knowing exactly what effect he had on his lover when he submitted like this.

He licked his suddenly parched lips, knowing the other was watching every little move he made like a hawk. Tarkin had no idea what to say. He needed time to let go of his initial hatred for Vader over his past lies. The Sith’s child also wasn’t here yet and as long as there was a possibility the Emperor would find out about his little plan he knew he had to keep a low profile. If Vader threw a tantrum over his current behavior, the Emperor for sure would check out what had his Apprentice so agitated that he is seething and punishing people left and right.

Yes, he had reports flowing into his office in a steady stream as of late, about Vader choking people or simply killing them when angered. It was a worrying development, the Sith obviously slipping once more in his control that they both worked on so hard to maintain. Which was why Tarkin knew that he had to get him back on the right track, before Vader did something that would endanger them both.

“Sithling… Listen to me carefuly now.” He spoke in a low tone, noticing how his lover deflated a little at the nickname.

Looking at the man at his feet, so needy and submissive, Tarkin took a dark glee in the next words that came out of his mouth and the stutter of shocked breath coming from Vader.

“I know. About your wife.”

It was cruel of him, he knew. But he also wanted to punish his wayward lover for the betrayal that still stung. A shiver raced down his spine as Vader’s hands let go of him in shock, the fear, and yes it was fear, strong in the air as the Sith’s breathing sped up.

“I know that you were with her when you lay in bed next to me. I know you married her and then fucked me right after. I know she was pregnant with your children and yet you promised me all of you exclusively. I know everything.” Spoke Wilhuff darkly, the emotions in him raging like a storm, wanting to hurt, to destroy.

A Tarkin with his heart broken was a force to be reckoned with.

“Wilhuff…” Started Vade hesitantly.

But something in the Grand Moff broke, the damm that held his emotions at bay falling apart. And there was no turning back now.

“No. I had enough Vader. You lied to me. From the very beginning of our relationship you told me nothing but lies. I gave you everything. Never even thought to go to another. I have suffered from your jealousy and possessiveness for years, from accusations that had no right to exist. Yet you were the one who could not be content with just having me. What was I to you? Someone whom you could come to to sate your darker desires? Too worried you would hurt your delicate wife? Or maybe you came to me when you two argued, when she was cross with you and wouldn’t give you what you wanted? But I would, wouldn’t I? Because you knew I… That I…” Started Tarkin but his voice started to break at the end.

A dark, gloved hand reached towards his face to wipe the wet tracks on his cheeks.

Tears? He was crying?

“Wilhuff. I am so sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t know how.” Spoke Vader in a soothing tone, yet the hesitation was clear in it.

The Grand Moff laughed, a broken and jarring sound. He felt like he completely lost it, like there was no point in pretending anymore. He wanted so much to tell the Sith everything, about Krennic, about Palpatine, that he basically gave himself to Thrawn to find Vader’s child, about Ver…

He was just so tired.

“Didn’t know how to tell me what? That I was nothing but a fucktoy to you? That your love for me was a lie?! PLEASE, TELL ME ANAKIN, BECAUSE I AM SO KRIFFING CURIOUS!”

He screamed the last words. It’s been so long since he has done that. He felt his throat getting scratched from the strain, already painful. The emotional strain and the tears that wouldn’t stop falling only worsening his state. Tarkin was a wreck and he knew it.

“I loved both of you. Just differently. I was young and confused and thought I could have you both.” Answered Vader, reaching with one hand to hold Wilhuff’s, caressing it delicately.

Why was Vader so calm? Where was the usually emotional Sith, where was the rage and the screaming, where was the Force choking? He was the one supposed to be levelheaded in this relationship, in control.

Not Vader.

“She betrayed me Wilhuff. And she is gone now. You are the only one I love and need.” Continued the Dark Lord.

What was happening?

“I… Why are you… No, you are not supposed to…” He tried, but couldn’t find the words.

Tarkin did not understand himself. He was going to make Vader hurt, regret ever lying to him. Why was he being comforted by his lover? The Sith should be begging for his forgiveness, not using soft words and touches. It wasn’t right, it felt exactly like it did in the past, when Wilhuff was still on the high that his feelings for the young Anakin Skywalker provoked in him.

“My One, forgive me. I have done something beyond repair, I know that. But it is all in the past. Please, let me show you how much I adore, how much you mean to me. Let me prove how much I love you and that you are the only one.” Begged the Sith as he got up and with a hand on the other’s shoulder made him lean back until he was spread on the bed.

Tarkin blinked, confused and tired, feeling wrung out and unable to stop his lover’s actions.

“Your love…? Your love is a filthy lie Anakin.”

He used Vader’s old name intentionally. The Grand Moff knew just how much the other hated it, to be remained of his past. But then, why shouldn’t he remember? It was Anakin who betrayed him.

Anakin not Vader…

Could he really do it? Separate the two and just let the past stay in the past? He missed his lover, missed his presence and touch. Missed being wanted and adored. Wilhuff soaked the attention Vader gave him, as much as he would like to deny it.

_Because deep down you know that you also need to let go sometimes of this iron control of yours. Isn’t that true… Wilhuff?_

Why did he think about Krennic’s words just now?

Vader by now climbed over him, his hands on either side of Tarkin’s head. They looked at each other in silence and for once Wilhuff wished he had the gift of the Force to hear his lover’s thoughts.

 

***

 

He was so beautiful, even broken and crying like this. Vader almost wept at how much he hurt this man, this man that still loved him despite all the things he has done to him. He knew that Wilhuff had every right to hate him, throw him out, break them apart.

He didn’t deserve his love.

But he was selfish and he wouldn’t let him go. The older man was the only good thing left in his life and he would rather kill him himself before he allowed Tarkin to leave his side.

The Sith side in him purred at the thought of keeping his lover safe this way and forever his. But he squashed it down. This was not a permanent solution to his problem and would only hurt him more in the end. He could not imagine a life without Wilhuff, without being able to look at him, talk to him, touch him…

He turned away from those dark thoughts, focusing on the man under him. It was unusual for Wilhuff to be this submissive. Most of the time, it was the older man who led them in the bedroom, who dictated what they would do. But now? Now the Grand Moff was laying prone on the bed, his body sagged tiredly as he looked at the Sith with tear filled eyes.

“I love you.” Whispered Vader.

Tarkin chocked on a sob, turning his head away and closing his eyes as new tears spilled.

“Let me show you, my One.” Continued Vader as he brought the other’s face back to face him.

Without another word, the Sith reached towards Tarkin’s uniform, slowly taking it off. The whole process of undressing his lover was spent  in silence, only Wilhuff’s soft breaths and Vader’s raspy ones breaking it.

Once the Dark Lord had taken the last article of clothing off his lover, he once more leaned over the now completely naked Grand Moff. He looked so small compared to him, even if Tarkin was much taller than the average man. But to a monster like Vader? No, he could easily squash him, swallow him up in his dark form until there was not a silver of pale skin left to see.

“I love you.” Repeated Vader once more, watching as Tarkin’s bottom lip trembled, but this time he did not look away.

Vader reached towards his armor and with swift fingers pulled out his cock, the dark metal glinting against the pale areas of skin that remained. He pumped it a few times, the gaze behind the mask never leaving Wilhuff’s grey eyes as he felt blood rushing in. With the Force he levitated towards himself the bottle of lube he knew Tarkin had in the drawer near his bed.

The bottle was pretty much full, a testament to the rift in their relationship.

Gently, he coated his gloved fingers in the liquid and used one finger to slowly breach the man.

It has been so long since they have last done this.

Wilhuff winced, letting out a gasp of discomfort. Vader stopped, waiting for his lover to adjust a little. When the crease lines evened out on Tarkin’s face he started to move the finger in and out, watching Wilhuff’s reactions like a hawk, wanting to only give his lover pleasure and nothing else. He felt his own cock become harder as he gazed at the picture the older man made. He was flushed already, the blush obvious on his pale skin. Tarkin’s eyes were half-lidded and dark, the tears finally drying up and no longer flowing. He was breathing hard, his own cock half-hard already as Vader continued his soft touches, adding a second finger.

“I love you.” He said once more.

Wilhuff moaned in need, but didn’t say a word yet, just let Vader do what he wanted. The Sith smiled under his helmet. Tarkin, stubborn till the very end.

When he added a third finger and finally reached the other’s sweet spot he finally got the reaction he was looking for.

“Vader!” Groaned out Tarkin as his back arched off the bed in pleasure.

The Sith hummed contently, his own breath labored. His free hand reached for Wilhuff’s cock and gave it a few pumps, feeling it harden. Tarkin was no longer holding himself back, groaning and moaning at his lover’s treatment. With a little bit of reluctance Vader stopped, watching Wilhuff whine and reach for him in desperation. But the Sith could no longer just look, he needed to reclaim this man that drove him mad with need.

“I love you.” He said as his fingers were replaced with his cock.

With painfully slow movements, holding himself back, Vader entered the other man.

Tarkin gasped breathlessly, his lips forming a silent o as his eyes widened. The man was breathing hard, arching his neck. Vader was not sure if it was due to the pleasure he was feeling or because he needed to get used to the stretch again after such a long time.

He cursed his broken body, wishing so much he could kiss Wilhuff right now.

“I love you.” He repeated like a mantra instead as he finally entered the man fully.

He leaned on Tarkin, hugging him to his body. He knew that his chest panel was probably uncomfortable to the other but he needed to feel him as close as possible. This was the closest they could join without a Force bond, in Vader’s current condition. He inhaled the scent of fresh linen and lavender and trembled with need, caressing the skin that he could reach with his hands.

“Vader…” He heard Wilhuff whisper softly.

He almost wept when hesitant hands reached around his back to grab at his cape and hold him tightly, bringing them even closer together. The Sith could feel Tarkin shiver softly as he hid his face in Vader’s shoulder.

“Please… Move Sithling.” Said Wilhuff.

Vader couldn’t find his voice so he only nodded. He didn’t let go of the other, instead opting to slowly start rocking into the man while glued to him as close as possible. The Sith felt Tarkin’s legs spread a little and move to lock on his behind, Wilhuff’s hills digging into him painfully to bring him in deeper. He groaned as the tight walls and warmth clenched around him. It always felt so good, to be buried in his lover like this, feel him with every piece of his being. How he wished Tarkin would let him form the Force bond so he could see just how good he felt to the Sith.

“Wilhuff…” Rumbled Vader, picking up speed.

The Grand Moff let out a moan as the other once more found his sweet spot, hitting it repeatedly when he realized exactly what caused the reaction. They were perfectly synchronized, each knowing what the other liked, how to move to bring them the most pleasure.

But their love making was different that day. They were both highly emotionally drained, both in need of comfort and closeness. Vader had to reclaim his most precious person, while Tarkin… Well, the Sith didn’t know why Wilhuff allowed this after all that was said. But he was thankful, so thankful he could once more feel the other man in his arms.

He missed him so badly the last few weeks.

“Vader, I am-” Started the older man.

The Sith knew, he could feel it in the air, in the Force. He was also close to his orgasm, but he wanted for Tarkin to come first. It wasn’t about him, even if he was glad he finally resolved the pent up sexual tension caused by the older man.

“Come for me, my One.” Growled Vader as his hand reached between them to pump the other’s cock along with his thrusts.

It didn’t take long for Wilhuff to scream Vader’s name as he came, arching even closer into the other. The feeling of the other's body clamping down on him provoked the Sith’s own orgasm and he came right after his lover, holding them impossibly close together as they rid the aftershocks of their love making.

They both tried to catch their breaths as they came back down from the high, Vader slowly slipping out of Tarkin and rolling on his side, keeping the older man close. He was content to just lay there with Wilhuff and rest.

“I love you.” He said once more, a little breathless.

His life support system could barely keep up with him when they had sex, but he didn’t mind. It was a matter of a few minutes for it to get back under control.

Tarkin grumbled something and snuggled closer to Vader’s warmth, everything that happened taking a toll on his not so young body as he slowly drifted to sleep. The Sith chuckled at the image and felt himself drifting off a little too.

His gaze flickered lazily around the bedroom, taking in all the little changes Tarkin might have made while he was cross with him. Golden eyes landed on a piece of white fabric that was neatly folded on a chair in a corner of the room. Vader’s mind and body were too tired to focus, but there was something familiar about the material. Something nudged at his head, telling him this piece of clothing was important somehow, that it should worry him, but why…

But then Tarkin shifted a little, reaching with a hand to bring Vader closer.

“You are thinking too loudly you blasted Sith, go to sleep.” Mumbled the older man unhappily, already half asleep.

With an amused chuckle, the Dark Lord put his head on the pillow and let Tarkin’s steady breaths lull him into sleep.


End file.
